


Memories as a Teacup

by wook77



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Deamus, Explicit Language, Friendship, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Leaving Feast, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-26
Updated: 2011-01-31
Packaged: 2018-10-26 11:22:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 61,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10785768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wook77/pseuds/wook77
Summary: Four years ago, Dean Thomas died in the midst of a raid. Seamus saw it happen right in front of his eyes but seeing isn't believing and reality is in the eye of the beholder. (Dean/Seamus Slash)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
> **Author's notes:**
> 
> Inspired by a prompt from miz_thang88 on LJ. Beta'd by nefernat. Story help provided by oconel and kaalee. 
> 
> This story deals with post-traumatic stress and survivor's guilt. 
> 
>  
> 
> Additional content (before and after Memories as a Teacup) is available - http://wook77.livejournal.com/tag/maatc 

Their meetings were innocent for all their regularity. Every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday at seven o'clock sharp, they'd meet at the same pub and sit in the same booth. The routine of it comforted Seamus, gave him something to look forward to in the midst of the emptiness and loneliness in his life.   
  
Seamus was always first, sliding into the booth and ordering the first round. By the time Dennis showed up, he'd be halfway through his first pint, though Dennis was always quick to catch up. The routine and predictability was an anchor in his life that he clung to more than was healthy. 

  
If he could make it to the meetings, he wasn't completely round the twist. As time went past, the importance of this increased. With the things and people he'd been seeing for weeks, Seamus needed this reminder that he wasn't crazy.   
  
Crazy people didn't meet with friends for drinks. Crazy people certainly didn't keep to a routine.   
  
Crazy people saw Dean at the park at eight forty two every morning.   
  
That was the problem Seamus had with the certainty of his sanity. Crazy people showed up at the park every morning to catch a glimpse of their friend who had been dead for four years. Crazy people were certain that it was Dean and Seamus refused to believe because seeing _isn't_ believing, dammit.   
  
Add to it that when he met with Dennis, they didn't converse. At all. For hours, they'd stare at the telly and watch footie or rugby or whatever shite the barkeep turned on. Sane people spoke to their friends, didn't they? They had actual conversations with actual meaning behind them. They didn't speak in gestures with their pints or with nods.   
  
Seamus hadn't said more than four sentences to Dennis in the two years they'd been meeting. He'd learned, early on, that Dennis didn't need conversation. He needed companionship, predictability, shared grief and proof of sanity, just like Seamus did. In all those years, Seamus never asked what Dennis did on the days they didn't meet. He hadn't been brave enough.   
  
The first time Dennis missed their meeting, Seamus sat in the corner booth and waited. When they'd closed the pub, he'd gone home and wondered if Dennis knew about his trips to the park. They were a sure sign of his instability and insanity, after all.   
  
The second time Dennis missed their meeting, Seamus felt bereft. He'd waited all night again and, as the night wore on, he doubted his sanity more. Perhaps Dennis had found better company, someone who didn't know what they'd gone through in the war, hadn't lost as much as they both had.   
  
The next morning, he'd tried not to visit the park. He wouldn't sit there and watch the front of the large glass building, he wouldn't count the window panes or people in navy-coloured suits while he waited for Dean to walk past. He wouldn't wonder if today would be the day that Dean smiled at him as he passed.   
  
Except that he did. He sat there and watched Dean walk past and it was a good day because Dean smiled at him and he stared, following the path from park to office. The twinge in his chest was nothing in the face of the short grin and eye contact of the day. That night, he promised himself, he wouldn't go back again. This had to stop, Dean was dead, that wasn't him, and there was nothing he could do about it.   
  
In the morning, he woke and, instead of going to the park to sit and watch for Dean, he went to Dennis's flat. He was breaking their routine but that didn't matter in the face of the collapse of his sanity. It took a few minutes but eventually Dennis opened the door and looked more worn than Seamus did.   
  
Words wouldn't come as they stared at one another. Finally, Dennis stepped back and Seamus entered the flat. It was dismally bare, nothing on the walls and barely a sofa and chair in the main room. As Seamus made his way to the threadbare sofa, Dennis went to the kitchen and the sounds of rummaging emerged. He came into the room and sat on the floor. He sat two bottles of beer on the table before leaning his head back against the arm of the sofa. Seamus laid down, head near Dennis's, and slept.   
  
When he woke, Dennis was staring at him. He could see the emotions flitting across that face – loss, need and grief – but he didn't know what to say or do. They'd been silent for years and he'd grown too used to it. Just as the silence had reached uncomfortable levels, a clock chimed four. Seamus wondered if he had enough time to make it to the park to watch Dean leave for the day.   
  
He shook his head and tried to stick to his resolve. Instead of going, he sat up and Dennis slipped onto the sofa next to him. A rugby match came on and it distracted him for a few minutes at a time. Even more distracting was the way that Dennis's hand fidgeted, fingers curling and uncurling, between them. It only took another two times before Seamus reached out and placed his hand over those shifting fingers to try to stop the motion. Before he could react, their hands were entwined.   
  
Seamus wanted to pull back, pull away from the physical contact, but it'd been years, four long lonely years, since anyone had touched him. Their palms fit together, Seamus's on top and Dennis's below, and it was comfortable if a bit odd. He'd expected longer, thinner fingers but Dennis's blunt hands were still enough if he didn't look down and wonder where the contrast of dark and light was.   
  
They sat there, just like that, for hours while the telly changed shows but Seamus didn't see any of it. His mind was busy with the what-ifs and the what-might-have-beens. Temptation grew as he wondered what Dennis would do if he leaned in, just a bit, and rested his head on the waiting shoulder. Before the thought finished forming, his head was on Dennis's shoulder and the quickening breath was his only reaction.   
  
The clock chimed eight and loss swept through Seamus. He'd done it. He'd successfully not gone to catch a glimpse of the bloke that looked like Dean. Somehow, that success didn't make him feel at all triumphant. He compulsively squeezed Dennis's hand, needing to anchor himself from begging for those hours back so that he could go to the park, sit on that bench and hope for a smile.   
  
Dennis stood and tugged on his hand until he stood as well. Like a lost puppy, Seamus trailed along behind him as they walked to the back of the flat. A light touch to his face and then they were curled together, legs and arms entwined so that one couldn't tell at a glance who's was who's. Seamus concentrated on the weight of the arm around his waist and ignored the feeling of wrongness that toes were short instead of long and elegant. Breath evened out as he matched his to Dennis's and slept again.   
  
His internal clock woke him up with plenty of time to shower and go to the park. It took him a long moment to realise where he was and even longer to realise who was behind him. He jumped out of bed and, panting, stared at the bed. His hands patted at his legs and his stomach and across his pants. They hadn't done anything and he hadn't betrayed Dean.   
  
Grief was fucking with his mind and by the time he came back to himself, Dennis was staring at him. He burst out with, "Have to go," grabbed his clothing and ran from the flat. It wasn't until he reached the familiar park bench that he was able to calm. There wasn't anything to feel ashamed of but, when Dean came walking past, he couldn't look beyond the chocolate-coloured trousers. Once Dean had entered the building, Seamus stood and wandered to the church nearby.   
  
Thumb pressed to forehead, heart and each breast as he muttered familiar words he'd ignored for years. Seamus just wanted his sanity back and the pain to end. He wanted to move on.  


~~**~~

Seamus remembered the first time he saw the Dean look-alike a few weeks ago. He'd been so gobsmacked that he hadn't been able to do anything other than stare, rub his eyes and stare some more.

He'd paced outside that office building all day, spelling away his baser needs as he watched and waited. There was no appearance at lunch but his patience was rewarded at quitting time when Dean had walked past him once more.

Before he could demand an accounting – reach out and touch Dean for the first time in years – Dean had disappeared into the crowd. Seamus had collapsed onto a bench and stirred only when a bobby had stopped to inquire if he was all right.

"I see him every day," he hadn't meant to say it out loud and, especially, he hadn't meant to say it to Dennis. He'd meant to keep it private and hold it close to himself. How he'd landed back at Dennis's flat to watch Muggle shows once more, he wasn't sure. All he was sure about was that he needed the regularity of their meetings and if that meant here instead of the pub, then he'd take it.

They didn't talk about Before, before the losses and the death and the war. He braced himself for Dennis to evict him and he even stood, ready to leave. Dennis surprised him by touching his knee and whispering, "I still see him, too."

Seamus thought Dennis didn't understand that he'd meant literally but he wasn't going to confess right now. He had his sanity to protect.

"Why can't we move on?"

There wasn't an answer to that for either of them so Seamus just lay back down and curled around a worn pillow on that ratty sofa. Silence was easier than conversation. Conversation meant ripping plasters off of wounds, opening them up to the air and lancing the infection. No wonder they'd been silent for two years.

Seamus wasn't ready.

He knew that it couldn't be Dean. He'd seen Dean fall to the ground, had seen the unnatural angle of his head as he lay there and he'd even seen himself collapse beside Dean. All that didn't stop him from wishing it was him.

They stayed where they were for the rest of the night, the silence as much a companion as either person. In the morning, as they both stretched out the kinks and knots from a night spent on the floor or the sofa, the temptation grew to have Dennis come along to visit with Dean. But that would be advertising his insanity so he held his tongue as he left with a nod.

Besides, he decided as he walked towards his bench, today would be the day that he talked to Dean. Today, he'd prove to himself that he was hallucinating and he didn't want Dennis along for that. Eight forty-five came and went with no Dean appearing.

At nine, he stood and walked into the park. Cursing under his breath, he mentally railed that the one day he resolved to be brave like he'd been Before and Dean couldn't be pantsed to show up.

"Ungrateful sod," he muttered just before he collided with something. He fell to the ground and knocked his head. The person that he'd stumbled into continued walking and Seamus sat up and rubbed at his head.

"You all right?" A hand appeared in his vision as he shook his head to clear the pain.

"Yeah, am fine, wasn't watching where I was going and… Dean?" As he spoke, he reached out to take the hand and was helped to his feet only to see that familiar face in front of him. The grip of the hand was comfortably familiar and Seamus didn't want to let go.

"Do I know you?" Dean looked confused and then his face brightened. "You're the bloke from the bench, aren't you? From the past few weeks?"

"Stop playing, Dean," Seamus demanded as they stood there, uncomfortably close enough that he could smell the aftershave on Dean's skin.

"How do you know my name?" Dean took a step back and let go of Seamus's hand. Seamus, though, was too busy being pissed off and hurt to move.

"Not on, mate, four fucking years and you're going to play like this?" Seamus went to embrace Dean but he raised his hands as if to ward Seamus off while he took another step back.  
  
"I don't know you and I'm not playing. I recommend that, whoever you are, you leave me alone." Dean turned on his heel and Seamus saw red.

"I fucking well do know you. You're Dean Xavier Thomas, you have two sisters, both younger than you, named Farrah and Kerry. You were born on May thirteenth and you snore worse than a longshoreman. You can draw like nobody else but you always downplayed it so we wouldn't think you a sissy. Know you better than myself, best fucking friends for almost ten fucking years but I've never known you to be cruel like this. Guess I never knew you at all, did I?" Dean froze in mid-step while Seamus yelled. "Mourned you for four fucking years and I can't believe I've wasted half me life on you."

Seamus tossed a rude gesture and then stalked off, back towards the street. His only thought was that he needed to get away from here. This wasn't at all what he'd wanted, not in the least. Hell, he hadn't even really believed it was Dean until the man had confirmed it. Rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars, he tried to get himself under control.

"Wait!" Dean called out but Seamus continued walking. "How do you know all that?"

"Fuck. You." Seamus bit out, over enunciating each word. A hand on his shoulder stopped him though.

"Three and a half years ago, I was found walking in London with no memory of anything after my eleventh birthday. I don't remember." Seamus froze under the admission and the weight of the grip.

"Four years ago, we went on a mission. You didn't come back."

Seamus pushed Dean's hand off his shoulder and without another word, he Disapparated. Landing rough and banging himself against a wall, he steadied himself and was relieved that he hadn't Splinched himself. He didn't quite remember how he made it up the steps but once he reached the door of Dennis's flat, he banged on it. A few seconds later, he repeated the banging.

When that still went unanswered, he hit the door in a steady rhythm while he muttered, "Let me in, please let me in, C'mon Dennis, let me in, I need to be in and…"

The door came open and his raised hands cupped Dennis's cheeks before he shoved himself forward, lipping at Dennis's mouth. When that mouth opened – out of shock or need, it didn't matter – Seamus thrust his tongue in all while walking forward and forcing Dennis deeper into his own flat. Once he'd cleared the door, Seamus kicked the door shut before turning them around and pressing against the door. "Fucking kiss me back, goddamnit."

Dennis's hands lifted and mirrored Seamus's, the touch feeling odd after four years of nothing. He shuddered under the light grip and sucked in Dennis's lower lip before nipping against it. Then the kiss turned rougher, harder, all teeth and tongue and Seamus wanted it. He didn't want gentleness or happiness. He wanted proof that he was alive and that what he'd just seen didn't matter because he was with someone that understood and wouldn't think him insane for what had just happened.

The light touch drifted across his face and then Dennis's hands came to rest on his shoulders. The similarity to Dean's touch rocked him and he pulled back, gasping and not able to make eye contact.

"Don't touch me, don't fucking touch me!" Seamus reared back so quickly that he fell and crab-walked further from Dennis. "Can't do this, still can't fucking do this."

"Seamus?" Dennis didn't sound disgusted or pissed. Worse than either, he sounded compassionate. Seamus hit his shoulders on the table and curled into a ball, arms wrapped around knees as he rocked. "Can't do what?"

"He touched me, Dennis, touched me and I'm fucking barmy, tell me I am." He refused to look so he didn't see Dennis cross the room to sit next to him.

"Who touched you?" A light touch on his wrists sent Seamus's glance swinging wildly until he saw Dennis beside him.

"Dean." It was a whisper, curse and prayer in one word. Even if he wouldn't look at Dennis, he knew that Dennis was giving him a pitying stare and looking about the room, completely lost.

Hell, this little bit of conversation was the most they'd ever been able to have since Before. That Dean was one of the ones to have caused that closure – along with Colin – and now he was the one to open the floodgates was an irony that didn't escape Seamus.

"You're not any more barmy than the rest of us. We lost so much." There was a pause and then, Dennis whispered, so soft Seamus wasn't sure he was supposed to hear, "Sometimes, I think we lost ourselves, too."

"He's alive, alive and working in a fucking office and saying he doesn't know me. Fucking doesn't know his best fucking mate." Seamus curled back in on himself, wrapping his arms around his knees and pressing his face into the curve.

Dennis didn't answer but Seamus didn't really expect it. After all, proof of his insanity danced with the dust mites and cobwebs in the air. He'd violated their unspoken agreement about Before yet again.

"It's him, Dennis, it's him and he doesn't remember." There was still no response from Dennis and Seamus looked up and, before he could question himself, he rolled to his feet and grabbed Dennis. "I'll show you, come on."

Dennis shook his head but followed. It felt odd to sit on the bench with Dennis. He'd been here so many times by himself that now that he had someone else with him, Seamus vibrated with energy. He chanted under his breath, "ComeonDeancomeonDeancomeonDean".

But Dean didn't show though they stayed there through his normal time to walk through the park on his way home.

"It happened, here, right here," Seamus said as he led Dennis to the spot along the path, "He helped me off the ground and held my hand and…"

Dennis didn't believe him, that much was obvious from the shuttered look that cried out _I pity you_.

"It happened," He repeated as Dennis walked away. After he was out of sight, Seamus repeated it, "It happened."

~~**~~

Seamus hadn't been here since Before. He'd been quite content with not ever contemplating coming back. All that aside, not only was he here, he was alone.

It was a figment of his imagination but he could still see the depression in the grass where Dean had fallen. He collapsed onto his knees as he had that day. The pain hadn't weakened; he'd failed, allowed his partner, his best friend, his _lover_ , die.

He'd checked, dammit. Fingers pressed into Dean's wrist and then his neck and he couldn't find a pulse. It was when he dropped his head to Dean's chest, mourning and lost, that the second wave of attacks began.

Death Eaters swarmed and, before he could raise his head, he'd been stunned and left powerless to move but cognisant. Harry and the rest appeared and grabbed Seamus but they'd left Dean behind. He'd screamed through lips that wouldn't move but they'd left Dean behind all the same.

The rest of the team didn't think he was aware but he could play back the conversations they'd all had around him about Obliviating him, take away the memories of those last few moments and he'd fought even more voraciously at the threat. A week later, another disappearance and death had taken their focus from Seamus and put the case back into the forefront.

A year after they'd left Dean behind, Seamus came back to this spot to apologise. Ripped apart, he sobbed into the grass that he hadn't given up. He'd come to terms with the gut-wrenching guilt and grief. It was time to do something productive and that guilt and grief had let the trail grow cold long enough.

Two years after they'd left Dean behind, he came back to once more apologise for his failure. He'd tracked every Death Eater he could remember from that attack or those mentioned in conjunction with it and all he had to show for it was far too much experience with Apparating and using Portkeys. Dean was lost.

Seamus headed to a pub near his flat and ran into Dennis. They'd drowned their failures, guilt and grief in the bottom of a pint glass. Some nights it worked and he slept. Some nights it didn't and he trembled and bit at his fist to keep the nightmares at bay.

Slowly, he began to heal and that ate at him too. He was losing the image of Dean's face, could barely recall the way a smile split his face or the way he'd wink before doing something outrageous. The worst was when he'd been laying in bed and he couldn't remember the bemused expression Dean would wear as he traced Seamus's chest. His own fingers traced his chest as Seamus tried to remember and then curled around a pillow at the loss.

One thing he never forgot was the sound of Dean's voice. That low timbre, the indulgent tone when Seamus pushed him just a smidge past his comfort zone, the husky need-filled voice as Seamus teased and tormented, none of them left him alone in his dreams.

That's why he hadn't quite believed that that bloke was Dean until he'd spoken. His vision could've lied to him, people sometimes superficially resembled other people and imagination filled in the blanks after all, but no one in the world sounded like Dean. No one in the world had ever had the ability to make him shudder just by reciting the alphabet.  
  
The memory of Dean chanting the alphabet – first in English, then in French, followed by Spanish and German – as he traced the letters onto Seamus's skin had him smiling as he laid back in the grass and stared at the sky. He'd been feeling sappy and, in a moment of weakness, he'd confessed the addiction to Dean's voice. That cheeky bugger had taken advantage of it to get his way whenever Seamus had attempted to refuse him something.

Even now, the memory had him wanting to give in to Dean, let it lie and forget that he'd spoken to Dean. Give him what he'd yelled and shouted and get on with his life, that's what would make Dean happiest. This time, however, he was going to hold firm and deny Dean. He hadn't forgiven himself for his failures before and there simply wasn't room for more guilt on top of the burden he already bore.

When he went home that night, he dug out the box of memories from the back of his closet where he'd hidden it two years ago. After staring at the lid, he went into the kitchen for an ale and then went back to his room where he paced back and forth around the box. Once the ale was done, he took it back to the kitchen, carefully set it in the rubbish bin and then, once more, went back to pace around the box on the floor. With a sigh, he dropped to the ground.

"Fucking hell," he muttered as he reached out to pull the lid off. His hand shook and he cursed again as he steadied himself.

The first photo on the top was one of the remaining members of Dumbledore's Army – Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Seamus and Dean were front and centre – and Seamus grinned as they waved to the camera. They looked exuberantly happy and, if memory served him, had been so happy that Voldemort was finished. High on victory, they'd assembled for a group photo and someone had taken it for them.

The next photo was one of Harry and Ron playing chess and Harry was losing badly. Then again, he always lost to Ron in some sort of embarrassing manner. No one could beat Ron at chess, not even Dean, though he was trying in the next photo.

The next one was a still photo, just Seamus rubbing sleep from his eyes and he traced across the thumb in the upper right hand corner where Dean had misjudged his hand placement. They'd laughed about it and Seamus had teased that Dean wouldn't be allowed to take photos anymore but he'd indulged Dean just the same.

Companionable arms slung around one another, this photo was from before Dean had kissed Seamus. There were sly glances and nervous touching with Dean ruffling Seamus's hair and Seamus gripping at Dean's waist. He set this photo to the side before delving back into the box.

He wasn't prepared for the next photo, had thought he'd thrown it out in a fit. A younger Seamus winked to the camera before laying an overly dramatic kiss onto Dean's lips. Dean only smiled indulgently before slinging an arm around Seamus's shoulders. The absolute happiness on their faces haunted him as he remembered the first time they'd been like that in front of their friends. He could still remember the feel of Dean's lips the first time he'd kissed Seamus – pressed up against a wall with too much adrenaline and nerves and not enough thought – and his right hand came up to press against his lips as he stared at the repeating image on the photograph.

The worship in his eyes brought the guilt boiling to the surface and he gave a watery laugh as the Seamus in the photo winked and kissed Dean once more. After carefully setting the photo down, Seamus curled into a ball there on the carpet of his bedroom. His hand reached out and fingers traced across Dean's face. Dean shook himself and then grabbed Seamus's hand and tugged him along until they were out of the photo.

"Come back," he whispered but they didn't listen to him. He fell asleep waiting.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Pulling at his collar and fidgeting with his belt, Seamus tried to breathe through his nervousness and to calm down. This wasn't going to work if he was obviously nervous. Deep cleansing breath through his nose and Seamus walked through the doors, package secured under his arm.

It was well after the time Dean would normally have arrived at work and a week after the incident in the park. Seamus had finished looking through the photos and found the ones that he could bear to part with and that might convince Dean that he was more than some Muggle office drone. He'd even been practising his speech that gave background and an explanation.

It took quite a bit of charm, some finagling and a promise to meet for drinks together later, to get past the receptionist with directions to Dean's desk. Tugging the brim of his hat lower, Seamus took the lift to the forth floor, stepped off and headed to the right. Then he wove past three offices to the fourth office on the right. He took a deep breath before knocking on the door and poking his head in.

There was no one there so Seamus took a moment to stroll over to the window and look out at the view. The scene was perfect; a wonderful view of the park and even the park bench where he'd spent so much time. It wasn't spacious but it wasn't a closet either. Dean had obviously done all right for himself in the years since he'd lost his memories. There was a nice-sized desk that was far too clean to belong to the Dean he remembered. He smiled at the memory of their laundry tossed all over the floor of their flat. On the desk, he could see a few photos and he set the box down on the corner as he passed on his way to pick up one of the photos.

"Forgot your clipboard, you know." Dean's voice came from the doorway and startled Seamus enough that he almost dropped the photo of a grinning Dean with his arm slung around a young girl he vaguely remembered.

"Aye, well, knew the disguise couldn't be perfect." Now that the moment was here, Seamus's carefully prepared speech failed him. Instead of professing their history or even handing Dean the box of photos, he carefully placed the photo back down onto the desk and then stared, taking in the changes.

"Michelle told me that there was a charming Irish delivery guy waiting for me in my office. Not sure how you got past her when it's hard enough for the rest of us and we work here." Dean leaned against the doorjamb and Seamus smiled at the familiarity of it. His hand shook with the want to touch but he held it back. Muggles were notoriously close-minded about so many things and no matter what Dean's actual history was, as far as he was concerned, he was a Muggle and possibly a straight Muggle at that. No, it wouldn't do to touch Dean in the way he craved. "You're no delivery guy so why don't you tell me why you're really here?"

Arms crossed over chest, Dean's face narrowed and Seamus recognised that posture. It said 'you have five minutes' and it meant it. The only problem was that Seamus thought it might take more than five minutes to figure out where to start, let alone to tell the entire thing.

"This is your sister, right? Farrah, I think?" He gestured towards the photograph he'd been looking at.

"Wrong, Kerry." Dean pushed off the doorjamb and came into the office. "And you didn't come here to look at pictures of my sister."

"I write your mam every year, twice a year, actually. Once on your birthday and once on your, err, once on the day… once on the day I thought you'd died. Nice lady though she never once mentioned you were alive to me in the four years since." He hadn't meant to admit that, hadn't even considered the hurt that omission caused him.

"I'm sure you didn't come here to discuss writing someone's mother either." Dean sounded bored.

"Right. You see, I had this speech prepared, this entire thing with dates and facts that would prove to you that I know you and that we were… mates but it's gone from me head so I'm lucky enough to have brought this," Seamus gestured towards the box, "with me cause seeing is believing, right?"

"What is it?" Dean touched the top of the box and Seamus's heart raced.

"Photographs but I've a favour before you open it." Seamus wanted to rip it away from Dean but he didn't.

"Yeah?"

"These're me only copies so if'n you're tempted to be destroying any of them, I'll ask you to just ignore 'em and give 'em back instead. These," Seamus paused to rub a hand down the side of the box before stepping back quickly, "these are precious to me."

Dean looked at him and Seamus shifted from foot to foot under the gaze. He hadn't meant to sound so needy but they were proof that he'd had something and someone. That meant so much to him and now that he wasn't submerging the feelings and memories, he couldn't bear to part with them. Finally, Dean crossed to the door and shut it.

"I'll open it now." Seamus watched as Dean carefully opened the box and then pulled out the first photograph as he sat behind his desk. It was a Muggle one, just the two of them standing in front of some statue. Creevey had taken it back in second year when he'd been playing with his camera, trying to get it to work.

"We're twelve there, second year at Hogwarts. That's the school we met at. On the train, it was, on the way to our first year when we met." Seamus cut himself off as Dean traced a finger over the photo, same as Seamus himself had done as he placed it in the box. "Should be warning you, some of the photos, they, err, that is, they move."

"Move? Like a film?" Dean set the photograph to the side and picked up another.

"Not quite, no. You'll see."

Dean only rolled his eyes and Seamus gripped his wand just in case Dean made to destroy any. He wasn't going to let it happen. The next photo was another Muggle one, taken right before they'd shoved each other against a wall and broke a table trying to get enough of each other, not that any of that showed though. Instead, they were simply staring at one another. They were twenty and it was a year before Dean had passed.

"You weren't lying." Dean sounded horrified and fascinated.

"I don't make a habit of that, no."

The next photo was one of them brandishing their wands in sixth year and grinning at the camera. Dean flipped the photograph over and then back around again. "How did you do this?"

"I didn't. Creevey, Colin Creevey, did it with his camera. He took these great photos both with a Muggle one and a Wizarding one and…" Seamus clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Muggle? Wizard? Now you're having me on." Dean looked pissed and that wasn't what Seamus had wanted in the least. He scrambled to think of his speech, anything to salvage this encounter that had been going so well.

"I'll explain in a bit, just look at the rest, will you?" Seamus gestured towards the box.

Dean flipped through photograph after photograph, so fast that Seamus lost track of which one he was looking at. He manoeuvred around so that he could peer around Dean and watch as the Dean in the photograph – just a few months before he died – grabbed Seamus around the neck and then dug a fist into his hair, all while yelling something meant to be insulting and slanderous but only really making them laugh.

"'M thinking, in that one, that you were pissed at me for," Seamus didn't want to admit that it was for shoving him into the wet spot in the sheets so he glossed over it, "for something the night before so you were yelling at me. You meant to call me something horrible but all that came out was 'asinine kumquat'. Didn't know what a kumquat was at the time but it didn't sound particularly insulting so we ended up laughing instead. Friend took a photo while we were tussling over it."

"Kumquat?" Dean started to say something more but his intercom rang.

"Mister Thomas? Your appointment is here."

"Thank you, I'll be right down." Dean looked around the office helplessly. "Look, um, that is, um, shite!"

"Seamus, me name's Seamus." That little , more than the rest, brought the reality of the situation home to him. He'd thought that showing a few photos would cause Dean's memories to come ricocheting back, he'd practically counted on it. "Just one more, if you'll let me."

"All right, yeah."

Seamus reached into the box as he spoke, "This, out of everything, is the most important thing in the box. Can't put a price on this, wouldn't be willing to part with it but for this and, well, I thought maybe, if the photos didn't stir a memory, well, an artist always knows his work, right?"

Dean nodded and Seamus finished unearthing the sketch from the bottom of the box. It was a charcoal drawing that Dean had finished two days Before. Bold lines with a viewpoint sketched over the darkness of Dean's shoulder as he pinned Seamus to the ground, hands entwined and only partially on the paper, the drawing showed Seamus looking up with so much love in his eyes that it hurt to look at. It ripped him apart as he stared at the physical proof of everything he'd lost. Seamus couldn't bear to look any longer, couldn't stand it so he watched Dean as his eyes travelled over the drawing.

He knew the moment that Dean saw the writing in the corner between head and bare skin. _Only you. Love, Dean._ Dean froze and Seamus couldn't look away as emotions flew across Dean's face, so fast that he couldn't identify any of them. Finally, though, Dean looked up and his face was stricken, as if Seamus had killed every one he'd ever loved.

The intercom buzzed again and Michelle's voice piped through, "Mister Thomas? Your appointment?"

"Yeah, yeah, give me a minute." Dean looked from Seamus to the drawing to the phone and cycled back through again.

"I'll go. Me card's in the box. Just send the box back if you're not wanting it or you want to talk or… or whatever," Seamus whispered before heading towards the door.

"Wait," Dean demanded and Seamus paused with his hand on the knob.

"Yes, Mister Thomas?"

"Not you, Michelle, I'll be right down." The intercom clicked and Dean looked at Seamus. "I'll get this back to you."

"Yeah, no rush, really, all the information's on that card and you have a meeting so I'll get out of your hair and… and I'm babbling, aren't I? I'll just leave you to your work and thanks for seeing me and if you want to talk about anything in that box, all me information is on that card and, Christ, I'm babbling again. You'll call?" The obvious and needy hope in his voice embarrassed him but not enough to look away.

"Um, yeah, definitely and," Dean looked to the box again, "yeah."

"All right." Seamus walked out of the office without a backwards glance. He went down to the lift, down to the ground floor and then past Michelle and the waiting appointment.

It was habit to make his way to the bench, even if he spent the time staring at the window he thought was Dean's. He had no idea how long he sat there before Dennis slid onto the bench next to him. It was awkwardly soothing to sit there next to him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I understand. It's fecking unbelievable, yeah? It's fine." As Seamus spoke, he gestured towards the spot. "Wouldn't have believed it meself had it not happened to me."

"Oh." It was more of an exhale than a word and Seamus knew that Dennis still didn't believe him.

"He's up there right now. Handed him some things from before and none of it seemed to make an impression until I showed him a drawing of his. Am thinking he's telling the truth that he doesn't remember a bloody thing." Seamus rubbed at his temple as he spoke. His head felt like it was splitting open. Stress, grief, guilt and lack of sleep all combined into a horrible headache. His stomach churned as well though he thought the fact that he hadn't eaten in days probably contributed to that.

"Still think it's him?" Dennis asked and then only stared straight ahead while Seamus looked at him.

"Nope, I know it's him. You'll see, it's him." Seamus reached out and grabbed Dennis's hand. He turned his palm up so their hands wrapped around one another. "You'll see."

"All right." They lapsed into that comfortable silence they did so well. Seamus took one more look up at the window he thought was Dean's.

~~**~~

"Mum?" Dean called out as he walked into the flat he shared with his parents and sister. He'd meant to move out a year ago but it was too easy to come home to his mum cooking and have family around when he didn't have any other sort of anchor to his past. At least, he hadn't had any other sort of anchor. The box in his hands suddenly weighed more than it had before. The entire afternoon had been consumed with paging through the photographs and drawings, trying to figure out what to make of Seamus and the past that had almost literally landed at his door. If these photographs were real… the thought pressed at him, made his head hurt with all the variables that came from it. Either his mum had lied to him or she didn't know a thing about the school and Seamus and the rest. Considering that his mum had every scrap of paper he'd ever drawn on, the idea that she'd forgotten didn't seem likely.

She came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on an apron and smiled at him. "Dean, you're home early!"

She sounded so excited to see him that he couldn't help the nerves that twisted to make him sick to his stomach. She started to hug him but he pulled back, sidestepping the embrace and setting the box down on the table.

"Where's dad?" He asked as he rested a hand on the top of the box.

"Still at work, of course. What's wrong? Are you feeling all right?" She put the back of her hand against his forehead. "You don't feel warm."

"I'm fine, mum." Except that he wasn't, not in the least. The box under his hand showed him how not fine he and his life really were. "Can we talk?"

"Of course but let me get you something to eat." She started to walk back towards the kitchen.

"Mum? I don't think I could eat, my stomach's in knots. I just really need to talk to you." She immediately turned around and pressed her hand against his forehead again.

"I knew you weren't feeling well. I'll get you something. Sit there, I'll be right back."

"Sit down, mum, please. I just need to talk to you, that's all!" His temper bubbled over and the shame of yelling at his mum didn't help the knots of tension. She looked hurt and he didn't know what to say.

"There's no need to yell, Dean. I'm simply worried over you. It's a mother's right to worry over her baby." They both sat at the table and, before his courage could fail, Dean pushed the box so that it rested between them. "What's this?"

"Open it and see." He watched as she pulled the box in front of her and, with a suspicious look, opened the flaps. Immediately after looking into the box, her expression collapsed, her hand swept up to press against her lips while tears pooled in her eyes. She folded the flaps closed.

"Where did you get this?" Her expression was hard, something that he couldn’t remember her ever using except for the time he'd cut his sister's hair when he'd been five.

"Did you lie to me? About my past?" He asked calmly.

"Who gave you this? Where did you get it?" Her gaze shifted about the room as she refused to look at either Dean or the box.

"Did you lie to me? Mum?" He reached out a hand and rested his palm against her arm. "Did you lie about my past?"

"We're going to get rid of this and pretend you never saw it." She stood and started to grab the box.

"No, mum, we're not." He put his hand on the box, holding it secure against the table. "We're going to talk about what's in it. Maybe start with this?"

Dean pulled out a moving photograph of Seamus and him, smiling and nudging one another. They were maybe fourteen and, as Dean watched, they changed from shoving to slinging an arm over each other's shoulders though Seamus had to struggle because Dean was so much taller. His mother didn't watch, though, she looked off to the side so Dean pushed the photo into her face.

"It moves, mum, it moves and it's me." He looked over at the photo and the box. "It's _me_."

"Put it out of your mind."

"I can't. It's a piece of my past. Who is this?" Dean pointed to Seamus in the photo. "We both know that you know so just tell me."

"It's for the best, Dean, they hurt you, you almost died," she sounded pained and the tears streaked down her face. "You were happy without this. We'll just get rid of it."

"All right, mum," he hugged her and then grabbed the box and hid it deep in his armoire. He couldn't get rid of it, though. He'd promised.

~~**~~

It was easy to slip back into the comfortable rhythm of the pub meetings. A week after Seamus handed Dean that box, he still hadn't heard back but he had met Dennis for drinks twice. Seamus relied on the easy familiarity between Dennis and him. The main difference from before Dean's reappearance was that, this time, they talked during those pub meetings. They discussed their days, Seamus's position at the International Quidditch Association, Dennis's work at his father's Muggle business and the latest Quidditch matches.

They still didn't speak about Before but conversation, any conversation, was a step in the right direction. A sane direction.

~~**~~

Dean swore he could hear the box calling to him from deep within his armoire. The photos were almost easily dismissed. With today's technology, anyone could have faked the photos. That some of them moved was harder to dismiss but he ignored them, as well.

But the sketch...

The sketch was much harder to dismiss. Giving up his resistance for now, he pulled the box out and then held the sketch. He traced the lines and a hint of a memory tugged at him, almost as if he could remember drawing this if he just concentrated hard enough. The sceptical side of him told him that it was just a flight of fancy, that the only reason it seemed so familiar was because he'd looked at it so much that it had to be familiar. Trace the lines of the sketch often enough and it'll feel familiar.

It wasn't the greatest sketch. Hell, he could do better in ten minutes but that was probably due to practise and experience. Seamus had been right; an artist recognises his or her own work. The heavy lines for shadowing, the way that the lines repeated one over another over another echoed the style he utilised today. He could tell that they were wrestling and that Seamus was fine with losing though the cheeky grin promised retribution. The obvious friendship in the drawing pulled at him more than the familiarity of style.

Not having a past made him wary of approaching people, made it harder to make friends. He'd kept to his parents' flat and only really left to go to work and came back. Sure, he talked to the people at work but he wouldn't say that he was mates with any of them. They didn't meet for drinks after work or anything.

Every time he looked at the box, he wanted to go to his mum or his dad or his sisters and ask but the few times he'd tried, they'd shut down so quickly. He didn't want to rock the boat, not now that they were all on sure footing. _But you're not on sure footing_ , the fanciful side whispered to him.

Shaking off the curiosity, Dean put the drawing back in the box and then put the box back into his armoire.

~~**~~

Two weeks after he'd handed Dean that box, Seamus still hadn't heard from him. Worrying over what could be taking so long but knowing that there were so many years that Dean had lost, Seamus tried to stay patient even as his foot jittered under the table at the pub. Sensing his unease, Dennis bought them both another round and they talked about the latest defeat of the Kestrels.

What they didn't talk about was Dean, the box or Before. It was easier this way and there would, hopefully, be time for it later.

~~**~~

The need to know had overwhelmed Dean to the point that he wasn't able to concentrate at work. He spent most of his time in his room staring at the photographs and the sketch. He had to know, he owed it to himself. Regardless of whether his mum wanted to tell him or not, he was going to ask.

Grabbing the box, Dean walked out into main room and set it down on the table where she was currently reading the paper. "Mum, we're going to talk about this."

"I thought we'd agreed to get rid of this. No good can come of it." She reached out and held on to his wrists. With pleading eyes and tone, she reiterated, "None, do you understand?"

"I don't care anymore. I have to know what happened. I _deserve_ to know what happened." He gently tugged until she released him and he opened the box to show the photograph of Seamus and him at twelve. "Who is this?"

"His name is Seamus," she sounded broken.

"Who was he, though?"

"He's the one that killed you." This time, she didn't sound broken, instead, she sounded angry, her voice raised. "He killed you and I will _never_ forgive him for that."

"How?" This didn't match with what Seamus had told him but this was his mum. Seamus had seemed so angry that Dean hadn't come back but his mum was so angry that he was asking. It just combined into a swirl of confusion.

"I don't know. If I did, he would've been brought up on charges, magic or no." Her eyes widened and then her hands clapped over her mouth.

"Magic? You might as well tell me everything."

"You're better off without any of it. None of it helped you, none. I sent you off to that world and you came back broken. You don't remember any of it and you're better off that way. Just throw this rubbish out and we'll go back to the life you should've had all along!"

"I don't want to go back to this life, mum! I want to know me, don't you see that? I want to know who this," he pulled another photograph out of the box and then another, tossing them on to the table in front of her, shouting as he went, "and this and this and this are! I want to know who both of them are! I want to know me and him and everything!"

"You want to hear about how you used to make things levitate and about how you got embroiled in a war? Want to hear about how you had to go into hiding for a year and we couldn't get anything from you, how I used to think you were dead and I'd cry myself to sleep? You want to hear about how that world gave you nothing but heartache and danger? You paid for it enough. _We've_ paid for it enough!" She stood as she yelled at him. "Seamus Finnigan helped to make sure of that!"

"He said he wrote you about it, twice a year, birthday and the other one." Dean stepped back and raked a hand through his hair. The level of vitriol coming from his mother was completely unexpected. She was so emphatic that he wondered if it was true that Seamus had helped do whatever had been done to him. He just couldn't believe it, though. The grief, gratitude and need that he'd seen in Seamus during their couple of meetings had been too visceral, too real to be faked.

"That's where you got these? From Seamus?" His mother stalked out of the room and before Dean could think of what to do, she was back with a bundle of parchment bound together with a black ribbon. She shoved the bundle into his chest, hissing, "Here, since you wanted to see them. Read all about how he regretted hurting you!"

Dean grabbed the bundle and started to read. The pining grief, even in the most recent ones, assuaged the rest of the doubt that Seamus could've hurt him. There were small stories about things that they'd done or things that had reminded Seamus of Dean. He was reaching out to share his grief and his mother had hidden all of it away.

"How could you keep this from me?" He looked up from the letters to his mother and her face was so shuttered that he couldn't figure out what she was thinking or feeling. Rage swept over him, she was still keeping secrets from him. It wasn't her place to play god with his past. He had a right to know. Hell, his whole family had played god with the past and kept it locked from him. When she still didn't answer, he swept the photos and the letters into the box and then walked out of the flat. His mother called out after him but he refused to listen to her.


	3. Chapter 3

Three weeks went by – three weeks, one day, six hours and forty-five minutes – and Seamus still hadn't heard from Dean. It was tempting to drink until he forgot, drink himself into oblivion and make Dennis take him home but he didn't do any of that.

He'd vowed to himself that he'd deal with the ramifications and dealing meant not running. Instead, he stayed painfully sober and watched Dennis sink in to oblivion. He worried over Dennis as he kept looking more and more ragged while his drinking increased.

Finally, Seamus couldn't watch any longer. He left after making arrangements for Dennis to have a taxi home. It was a lonely walk home as he rehashed his conversations with both Dennis and Dean. He'd really thought Dean would've contacted him by now. He'd counted on it, a fact he wasn't aware of until three weeks, one day, eleven hours and six minutes passed without a hint of contact.

Had someone offered to make the wager, Seamus would've put down money that at least Dean's mum would've contacted him. A scathing letter, a how-dare-you sort of thing, at the very least and a plea for help at the best, anything would be better than this silence. He kicked at a rock on the pavement and then turned towards his building.

Then there was Dennis and his increased drinking. He kept acting like he was going to speak and words never came out. Instead of whatever conversational gambit he'd been about to make, Dennis would order another pint or talk about a match that they hadn't seen.

Trudging up the stairs, his mind was still on the lack of closure and Dennis's issues so he didn't notice how very dark it was. When he reached the landing at the third floor, he finally noticed the lights and he cursed under his breath, "Fucking hell but it fits, bloody fits all right."

He darted a look around in the dark, straining to see if there were any Muggles about. Hoping it was safe when no one yelled out 'I'm a Muggle, don't do magic in front of me', he pulled out his wand and cast a quick _Lumos_ as he walked towards his door at the end of the hall.

"So, it's true, then." The voice came from the shadows and startled Seamus into dropping his keys and wand. The light died out but he didn't need it to tell who that voice belonged to, even if it was quiet and upset.

"Dean?" He bent and picked up his possessions and cast another, stronger, _Lumos_. In the dim light, he saw Dean sitting in the shadows of the corner with his knees drawn up and his chin resting on them. His face was in even deeper shadows and Seamus took a few steps closer. Dean didn't look up, just stared straight ahead while his hand rested on the box next to him.

"I couldn't believe it at first, you know. Thought the photos were some sort of new technology or something and that you'd made them up. Photoshopped them or whatever but I couldn't get that drawing out of my head." At last, Dean looked up.

"Want to come in? Hallway's no place for a talk." Seamus held out his hand to help Dean off the ground. Dean didn't reach out so Seamus dropped his hand, turned and unlocked his door.

"Wait." At Dean's request, Seamus turned back and saw Dean's upraised hand. With a strong clasp, Seamus pulled him to his feet. Once they were standing, they both stared at their clasped hands before, as one, they let go.

Seamus went into the flat while Dean retrieved the box. Flipping the light switch, he sent up a prayer of thanks when the lights turned on. The scattered clothes, dirty dishes on the end tables, and the empty bottles scattered all over were certainly not a very good first impression. Hoping that Dean wouldn't notice too much, Seamus waved his wand and sent all the bottles winging towards the proper bins and then the clothes towards the bedroom. The trash went to the other set of bins.

There wasn't any sound behind him as the last of the trash fell out of sight. Seamus turned and saw Dean staring into the flat while hugging the box to his chest.

"Sorry, the flat was a mess and… and this isn't about the state of my flat, is it? This's about the magic." The light dawned and Seamus's could've kicked himself for forgetting. It was easy to fall into old habits of doing a quick cleaning as they walked into their flat, trying to get rid of the evidence of a separation.

"I… you…" Dean stammered and Seamus only held the door open further.

"Come in, please. We'll talk." Dean nodded at Seamus's request and came into the flat. "Want something to drink? I've got some ale and lager or I could make some tea."

"A beer would be good." Dean wandered the flat while Seamus went to the kitchen and dug for his bottle opener. First drawer didn't have it and neither did the second. He gave up after the third and, after taking a covert look at Dean, he spelled both bottles of beer open.

Dean had wandered over to the fireplace and was fingering a few of the photographs on the mantle – ones of Seamus with his family – and then looking around curiously. As he crossed the room, Seamus spoke, "That's me family, three sisters, four brothers and then me. I'm the baby and spoilt to boot."

"Sorry, didn't mean to intrude." Dean jumped back from the photos.

"You used to know all of 'em so I don't think of it as intruding. Here you go." The conversation seemed painfully normal and there wasn't that thread of awkwardness they'd had in the office. "Glad to see you came by."

"Don't really have anywhere else to go, truth be known. Not sure if you know but I was living with mum and I sort of left in the middle of an argument." Dean paused to rake his fingers through his hair. "Argument was about you, thought you deserved to know that she, um, she showed me your letters."

"So she got them. That's good to hear." Seamus ignored the wrench in his gut as he sat on the sofa and drank at his beer. "If you want to talk about what all she had to say, I'm here. I'm also here if you need a place to sleep though I don't have a spare room so it'll be the sofa."

"I'd appreciate the sofa for at least tonight, thanks." Seamus's burden suddenly lightened at the idea of Dean sleeping just a bit from him. He wouldn't push. He wouldn't not even as his heart demanded it.

"It's yours. Have to work tomorrow? Need an alarm?" Seamus headed to his bedroom to pull a pillow off the bed and a spare blanket that his mam had knitted him while he'd been in Hogwarts. Dean and he had lain under this blanket while the world erupted into chaos around them and he held it close, breathing in deeply and searching for Dean's scent that had always seemed to cling to it. That it didn't surface didn't matter because Dean was standing – larger than life and twice as awkwardly – in his main room.

"No, thanks, thought I'd take the day off. Not really in a proper emotional state to work, need to be steady and I'm not right now." Dean stared at the pillows and then drank deeply.

"Aye, well, it has to be tough to find out that someone's been keeping secrets from you. How much she tell you?" Seamus went about laying the pillow and unfolding the blanket onto the sofa.

"Not much. Asked her right away but she wouldn't talk about it and I let her go. Then, today, I got pissed and I showed her the photos and she cried. Said some things I'd rather not get into right now and why are we acting like this is normal or all right? Why aren't you yelling or demanding answers?" Dean raked his hand through his hair once more as he started to pace.

Seamus stepped in front of him and then tugged his hand down from his head. "You're not needing the yelling or the demanding. You're needing quiet and peace more than I'm needing to demand, so we'll talk tomorrow. For now, I'll just leave you to sleep and think."

"How do you know that?" Dean whispered as he looked down at Seamus and their entwined hands.

"I know you better than meself, remember?" Seamus squeezed Dean's hand and then let go. "I'll call in tomorrow and we'll take the day for that yelling and demanding. Night, Dean. I'm glad you're here."

Seamus turned and walked into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. As he stripped, he strained to hear if Dean were doing the same. The temptation to walk out there, grab him and kiss him senseless was strong but the need for them to just _be_ was stronger. He could be patient, if he tried.

The kettle's whistling woke him. It took a moment for Seamus to place the sound and a moment longer to figure out who would be fussing with it. Pulling on whatever bottoms were closest, he walked out into the kitchen. Dean stood at the cooker and his only reaction as Seamus entered the kitchen was to stiffen. Instead of saying anything, Seamus busied himself pulling the milk out of the refrigerator.

"I looked for something to cook but your cupboard's fairly bare," Dean said without turning.

"Aye, I normally grab something out. We can go, if you'd like." The casual acceptance of the night before disappeared under the awkwardness of almost strangers in the daylight.

"That'd be good."

"Just give me a minute." Seamus put the milk back in the refrigerator before going back to his bedroom to rummage around for something vaguely clean and that didn't smell. It'd been so long since he'd done laundry that most of his clothing was on the floor. Spelling the clothes clean, he walked back out and saw that Dean had put away the tea and turned off the cooker. "What do you feel like?"

"Up to you," Dean said and they finally made eye contact. Seamus grinned at the familiar response. Dean had never been one to make a decision for a restaurant and it didn't look like that had changed in the least.

"Still hate black pudding?" Seamus slid on his shoes before realising the familiarity of the question.

"I do, yeah."

"Good to know some things never change. There's a place down the street that serves a fantastic black pudding." Seamus cuffed Dean on the shoulder while he opened the door and then held it as Dean stared. "Sorry, didn't think."

"It's… it's all right. Well, the slap not the black pudding."

In silence, they walked to the small café down the street. The bell tinkled over the door as they entered and then found a table near the back. The only conversation was sorting out their food requests. Seamus played with the salt shaker, moved on to the cutlery and then fiddled with his napkin. Looking anywhere but at Dean, he crossed his ankles, cracked his knuckles and resisted the urge to straighten his hair.

"Mum said that I could do everything you did last night and that she hated it, hated what it had turned me into and that she was glad it was gone," Dean whispered in the midst of the thorny silence. Seamus knew what had driven Dean to his door and he wasn't at all sure how to address it. Instead, he ignored it.

"You were ace at Transfigurations and Charms, though you were pants at Potions and we were both rubbish at Divinations. Professor Trelawney was funny, though. She had these giant glasses and looked like a starved bird. She would swoop all over the place. Couldn't tell you the shite we made up for our papers." Seamus smiled at the memory of them hurrying to get all the homework done and taking Harry and Ron's suggestions and embellishing their own misfortunes.

"How'd we meet?" Dean asked and Seamus finally looked up and shot a grin towards Dean.

"It was on the train to school. You pissed off some older students and I came to your rescue as they were about to turn you green with pink hair while puking slugs. It was pretty gruesome so I stepped in front of you and made them stop. In gratitude, you bought me all sorts of sweets and best mates since." Dean gaped at the story and Seamus laughed. "Naw, that's not how it happened. I'd stumbled into this group of boys, Slytherins and dumber than they looked, which was harder than it seems, and they were going to do something awful to me but you yanked me into your compartment and locked the door. They banged on that door until Percy came by and made them leave. You helped me drag my trunk into the compartment and that's when Nev lost his toad. It was pretty funny to watch it running off and the poor kid running after it. Nev was always losing his toad."

"It sounds like a story book, hard to believe it's real."

"Aye, Muggles are always thinking that. You said you remember from before you were eleven, don't you remember making stuff happen?"

"Like what?" Seamus searched his memory. His mam had told him countless stories of how she'd known he was magic like her but he wanted one that would jog Dean's memory.

"When I was four, mam was punishing Declan, me older brother, and she put the biscuits she'd just made way up in the cupboard where none of us kids could reach. We were all pretty pissed at Declan and I didn't think it was fair. Hell, still don't to be honest. After all, I didn't help paint the neighbour's cat. So I wished really hard for those biscuits and a pile appeared right before me. I was so shocked that I screamed and mam came running. After looking in the cupboard and seeing the jar still up there, she patted me on the head and handed me one. Nothing tasted as good as that biscuit for a long time." Both of them laughed at the memory and the tension at the table eased.

"When I was nine…"

"Yeah?"

"My mum and I used to take these walks. We'd walk all over without any destination or plan, just talk about the news or school or anything, really. There was this little art gallery, mum couldn't see it at first but once we were inside, it was brilliant. There were all these odd little paintings and this hunched over little man with a booming voice. I stopped by this painting of an old man and a chemistry set, all these brightly coloured vials and smoke rising from a cauldron. As I stared at it, it spoke to me," Dean whispered the last and looked around to see if anyone had heard him. "He spoke to me and it scared the shite out of me."

"What did he say?" Seamus knew the answer, he'd heard this story before, when they'd been talking about what had inspired Dean to pick up a brush the first time. Hand drawing patterns and art on Seamus's skin, Dean had told the story in the same dreamy voice he'd just used now. Reaching a hand to his chest, Seamus pressed it against his heart as he remembered.

"'Bezoars and bullfinches, boy!'" Seamus almost said the words as Dean did. "Mum heard it too and got me out of there but I wasn't scared at all. I've looked for that gallery every so often for years and I've never found it."

Seamus knew exactly where it was. He'd searched all over London for it himself, sending out requests to almost anyone he could think of that would know of a painting of an alchemist or a potions master that said such a unique phrase. It had taken him months but he'd finally found it. For Dean's birthday, he'd taken them to it and the wonder on Dean's face as he entered, the absolute joy of the moment, was one of his favourite memories.

"Maybe you'll find it again, someday." Seamus didn't have an opportunity to say anything else as their food arrived and they started to eat. The tension increased as the silence lasted. Unable to tolerate it much longer, Seamus asked the first question that entered his head, "Do you remember getting your Hogwarts letter?"

"No, not at all though mum…"

"Did she show it to you?"

"You could say that." Dean's voice sounded final so Seamus changed the subject away from the letter.

"It was a good school, still is, actually. Mam always goes on about how it was better when she was there but she wasn't fond of Dumbledore, thought he wasn't protecting the students enough. He did his best." Seamus paused as he searched for other topics that wouldn't take Dean back to his mum. "There were five of us boys in the dorm. You, me, Neville, Harry, and Ron. We got along well enough though we all had our problems. Between you and Nev, you kept us all together. We had some good times. Real good times," Seamus said, lost in memory.

The memories of Bertie Bott's – the crunch of toffee and the disgust of ear wax – and the trips to Hogsmeade blended with the studying in the library, shared mealtimes, that frantic rush to finish homework and even the fights. He could look back and see the beauty in all of the memories.

"Yeah," Dean said and he sounded so sad that Seamus was brought back to the now of it, the fact that Dean couldn't remember anything after the time that he would've received his letter.

They'd finished eating and Seamus paid the bill. Seamus had some ideas where to go next but he wasn't sure that Dean would be willing to go to St. Mungo's and have an exam, wasn't sure that Dean would be at all right with Diagon Alley or any of the Wizarding areas as he still thought the stories just that, stories.

"I've somewhere to show you, if you're willing."

"All right." Dean sounded leery but Seamus led the way out of the café and then wove his way through the crowded streets to the Tube. It took two transfers until they were in the right section of London. There wasn't any guarantee that the painting would still be there but it had been four years ago when they'd wandered into the gallery nine months Before.

"Still don't quite believe in the magic, do you?" Seamus asked as they got off the last train and entered the crowd.

"Bit like all those fantasy books, isn't it? I see it happening but I keep thinking that I'll spot the wires or the tricks."

"I can show you that it's real, if you'll trust me." Seamus paused on the pavement while he waited for Dean's answer. After what seemed like an hour of standing their while the crowd of people parted around them, Dean nodded and they continued on their way. Relief poured through Seamus as he finally spotted the gallery. "Do you see it?"

"See what?" Disappointment started to curl in his belly but Seamus ignored it.

"Come on, we'll get a bit closer." Seamus crossed the street and stood in front of the gallery. Dean stood next to him and Seamus watched Dean's face for any sort of recognition. "What about now? Look hard."

"Is that…" The dawning wonder on Dean's face was reward enough.

"Aye, want to go in?" Seamus held out his hand and Dean, still staring at the gallery, took it. Seamus ignored the joy and the temptation to entwine their fingers, press their palms closer together as he pulled their entwined hands to his mouth to lay a kiss across Dean's knuckles. Instead, he held it loosely as they walked into the building.

A wizened, stooped-over wizard stood behind a counter and beamed at them as they walked in. "Take a look around and welcome. Welcome!"

"Do you have a portrait that says something about bezoars?" Seamus asked but Dean was already tugging him over to a small portrait in the back corner. There was the portrait from all those years ago. Amazed that it was still there, Seamus waited for it to speak but the man only stared at his potions and didn't react to them standing there.

"You've visitors, Paracelsus." The man from the counter limped over as he spoke to the painting.

"Bezoars and Bullfinches, boy! Can't you see that I'm working?" The alchemist went back to his work and Dean laughed as he reached out to touch the frame of the painting. Seamus only watched his face as the wonderment spread. It reminded him of the way that Dean would study him at times while he chewed on the tip of a brush or pencil, the way that he'd look right before some piece of artwork came to brilliant, eye-catching life. It reminded him of the Dean from Before and Seamus couldn't resist the temptation any longer as he entwined their fingers together.

"I say, boys, you look familiar to me. Can't say that I've never forgotten a face but it's rare. Not your first visit, is it?" The man had finished making his way towards them.

"In a way, it is," Seamus explained while Dean still gaped.

"In a way? What sort of answer is that?"

"Best I can give you."

"All right, well, let me know if I can help you," the man said as he wandered back to his desk. Seamus nodded in response and went back to watching Dean trace across the frame of the painting.

"It's all real. This whole thing is real." He wasn't sure if Dean had meant to speak out loud but Seamus answered anyway.

"It is."

Dean turned and looked at their entwined hands and then to Seamus's face. In that same whisper, he asked, "What were we?"

"Friends, the best of friends," Seamus whispered back. It was the simplest answer and the most honest. After all, they had been the best of friends even when they'd been lovers. Seamus remembered the first time Dean had kissed him and Seamus had demanded that they stay friends no matter what happened next. They'd kept that vow up until Dean had died.

Dean looked down at their hands again. Seamus didn't let go, wouldn't until Dean pulled back. Seamus wanted to tell him that they'd been more, so much more, but he didn't, wouldn't, _couldn't_. When he didn't, the tension knot in his chest that he hadn't been aware of eased.

"I wish I could remember." Dean kept staring at their hands so Seamus gave them a squeeze and then left go. There wasn't anything else he could do, Seamus wanted Dean to remember, too, and the pain of it was a stone in the middle of his gut.

"We'll work on it. There're places that might be able to help."

"I've tried, we've tried so many."

"There are Wizarding places that specialise in spell damage, memory problems and such, if you're willing." Dean nodded in response and then, as if by mutual decision, they left the gallery.

They wandered the area, not really talking and not really silent either. Dean pointed out a few spots: the place he'd had lunch with his mum that day he'd discovered the gallery, the place he'd bought his school supplies, a favourite bookstore that he frequented to this day, the shop where he got his art supplies. Each piece of information was small, almost inconsequential but they meant so much to Seamus as they showed that, at the core, Dean hadn't changed.

Losing track of time, they kept walking until Dean's stomach growled. Laughing at the sound, Dean offered dinner at a favourite spot and Seamus agreed. The small curry place was one that they'd been to Before and Seamus relaxed into the familiarity of it. If he concentrated, he could see Before and now melding into one experience for him. In addition, he was here with Dean and they hadn't taken the day to argue and yell as he'd suspected they might the night before.

After dinner, they wandered outside once more. As the sun was setting, Seamus coaxed Dean into the alley behind the restaurant. "Haven't done this in years, not like this but you want to experience magic first hand?"

Dean looked leery. "What're you going to do?"

"Apparate, we'll go from one place to another in the blink of an eye." Seamus held out his hand and Dean looked around before placing his hand into Seamus's.

"All right, just… just don't kill me."

"Wouldn't do that and I'm not meaning to sound like I'm getting fresh but the more we're touching, the better it is."

"Oh yeah?" Dean laughed but stepped closer and slung an arm around Seamus's shoulders.

"Like this," Seamus said as he turned and embraced Dean and Apparated them without giving Dean a chance to respond.

They appeared in the alley behind Seamus's building and Dean was shaking. Seamus cursed himself for pushing but they'd had a brilliant day and Dean had seemed so open after the gallery that he hadn't been able to resist it, had thought maybe that Dean would be open to the experience and…

"What the fuck just… how did we… Oh God." Dean let go and raked his hands through his hair.

"Sorry for pushing, thought you'd enjoy it but I won't…" Seamus stopped speaking when Dean started laughing.

"That was bloody brilliant."


	4. Chapter 4

Seamus didn't begrudge Dean the sleeping on his sofa bit. He didn't mind at all, it was just that he was curious how long it would last and if Dean would disappear as quickly as he'd appeared. Bracing himself, Seamus wandered out into the main room and saw Dean sprawled on the sofa, long arms twisted and hanging off the side and legs dangling over the edge. It didn't look comfortable in the least and Seamus shook his head as he walked past. He'd have to transfigure the sofa tonight. That is, if Dean stayed. 

 

Fiddling with the kettle, he started tea and then rummaged for something in the cupboards. They were going to need food. As the water heated, he went to the main room and leaned on the doorframe and watched Dean as he slept. The small twitches in his face and hands brought back memories of running his fingers along them to still their motions. For such a still man when awake, Dean never stopped moving in his sleep. When Seamus had stilled his hands, Dean had moved his feet. When Seamus stilled his feet, he wiggled his toes. On and on it went, constant movement that almost always woke Seamus and sometimes drove him mad.

 

When Dean stirred, starting to wake as his right hand slapped himself across his forehead, Seamus went back into the kitchen and dug into the cupboards once more. There was a small box of biscuits in the back and he saw a few crackers as well. Poking his head into the refrigerator, he found some eggs and milk. After a careful sniff into the carton, he deemed the milk safe. There was enough there to make his mam's omelettes. Opening the drawer for a skillet, he took care to be as quiet as possible as he slid metal against metal. 

 

"Morning." Dean's voice came from the doorway and Seamus turned and stared. Dean hadn't bothered to put a shirt on and Seamus's fingers itched to feel that flesh under his fingertips. 

 

Dean, standing in the doorway, rubbed his hands up and down his chest. Seamus traced the path with his eyes. It was mesmerizing, the fluidity of that touch and Seamus remembered the light hearted moments when, as Dean arched back into the stretch, he'd poke Dean in the ribs and they'd laugh even as they chased one another around. Then there were the kisses that followed, playful nips or wet swipes of Dean's tongue. The kisses were the best part, even better than the feel of Dean's hands on his skin, rubbing up and down in a quest for those rare magical spots that had him losing control into laughter and need all swirled into one. 

 

Then there were the mornings, as Dean scratched his chest, where Seamus would push Dean's hands away and do it himself. That smooth flesh under his hands would cause his fingertips to tingle. Those quiet mornings, soft touches and whispered greetings, were missed just as much as those loud, laughter filled mornings.

 

"Seamus?" 

 

Seamus came back to himself and flushed. He'd been staring, tracing Dean's chest with his eyes as he relived the memories. "Yeah, sorry, hungry?" 

 

He turned around quickly, not wanting to give up those memories just yet. It was hard, as he waited for the arms of his memory to swing around him, when the reality didn't mention the memory. Spreading his own arms wide, bracing himself against the countertop as he gripped it, his head hung low as he inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. The deep cleansing breaths helped centre him, helped him to recover his balance and his patience. 

 

"You all right?" Dean's hand touched a shoulder blade and Seamus shuddered under the touch before flinching away. 

 

"Hungry?" Seamus asked as he drew his arms in and fiddled with the eggs. 

 

"Should I go?" 

 

"No!" Seamus turned rapidly and found Dean even closer than he'd thought. "I just needed a minute. Just… give me a minute." 

 

"Yeah, all right." Dean backed up and looked lost for a moment. "I'll just…"

 

"I've a confession to be making," he murmured into the awkward silence.

 

Dean stopped abruptly before turning. 

 

"We were – " Seamus didn't have a chance to answer as Dean's mobile rang. 

 

"I can ignore – " Dean started to say while Seamus said, "Go ahead and get it." 

 

Fumbling in his denims, Dean pulled out the mobile and looked at the screen. "I have to take this." 

 

"That's fine." But it wasn't fine, Seamus wanted to yell. He'd been about to pour his heart out, tell Dean what he'd really meant to Seamus, that they weren't just best mates, that they'd been so much more than that that Seamus hadn't ever had a word for it. 

 

As Dean spoke to whomever was one the phone – and it sounded more like an argument than conversation – Seamus cracked the eggs and started to make the omelette. It was easier to cook than to think about his reaction. Dean was still arguing as Seamus flipped the omelette out of the pan and fixed the plates. As his table was barely large enough for one, Seamus grabbed his wand and enlarged it. 

 

He'd forgotten that Dean was still leery of magic, a fact brought home to him when Dean's phone clattered to the ground. Not sure if he should be embarrassed for being himself or if he should have any other reaction, he ignored it all by choosing to sit at the table and start eating. 

 

After bending to pick up his mobile, Dean snapped it closed and then came over to the table. "That was…"

 

"Yeah, that's magic for you, making tables bigger and freaking out the mates." Seamus ran a hand through his hair. "Look, if you're uncomfortable with it or whatever, I'll try to stop but I can't guarantee it. I use it too much and I'm used to me own ways anyway." 

 

"I'm not… uncomfortable with it. It's just a surprise to watch it happen." 

 

"Third year Charms, Professor Flitwick taught us how to do that. We, that is, all of us boys from the dorm, spent all night enlarging everything we could; tables, chairs, your blanket, Harry's trousers as they were so big anyway. Then Ron leans over and asks, 'wonder if this would work on our you-knows'. Nev, innocent bastard that he was, asks 'you know whats?' We were all laughing so hard that we forgot to do it. Next morning, Goyle, this dumber than a box of rocks arse, comes in to the Great Hall limping. Turns out he did try it. Only problem was that we hadn't learned how to shrink anything so he'd been like that since the day before. Fucking idiot hadn't gone to see Madam Pomfrey or anything, just kept enlarging it and enlarging it and…" Seamus couldn't continue telling the story as he was laughing so hard.

 

"You can do that? Enlarge it?" Dean goggled at Seamus as he laughed. 

 

"Aye, shrink it, too." 

 

"What happened to him? He still walking around like that?" Seamus laughed at Dean's question. 

 

"Naw, Snape took him up to Madam Pomfrey and got him fixed." 

 

"Have you done it?" 

 

"Don't need to, of course. Wanna see? It's sounding like you're having more than enough problems with your girlfriend, though." The words popped out before Seamus could think about them. 

 

Dean, instead of getting pissed off, simply laughed. And laughed. It was almost insulting with how much he was laughing. "That was my sister, Kerry. She wanted to know where I was as she just went to mum's and couldn't find me. Not sure I'm able to talk to her right now since she held the secret, same as mum and dad did. Hell, they all kept the secret from me." Dean picked up his fork and cut a bite but stopped to add, "I just want to know who I was, that's all. They can't understand that." 

 

"Have you tried to fix it?" Seamus asked instead of what he wanted to say which was vitriolic enough towards his family for allowing him to think Dean was dead.

 

"Yeah, visited about a hundred doctors, had even more tests and no one could figure anything out." Dean stared at the wall in front of him. "Don't think there's anything that can be done." 

 

"You haven't been to St. Mungo's yet so don't be giving up hope." And Seamus meant that he, himself, shouldn't be giving up hope either. 

 

"St. Mungo's? Is that another hospit – " The phone rang again and Dean cursed under his breath. He silenced it and then looked back at Seamus. "Sister again." 

 

"None of my business who it is." Seamus played with his food as he stared at his plate. 

 

"All right, then. This St. Mungo's, is that another hospital? Haven't heard of it." 

 

"Aye, it's a good place, they do wonders there. During the war…" Seamus cut himself off abruptly.

 

"War? What war?" Dean sounded confused.

 

"Not in the mood for politics this morning." Seamus picked up his plate and tossed it into the sink before walking back to the bedroom. Calmly shutting the door, he walked to the bed, sat on the edge and put his head in his hands. Christ's sake but he was torturing himself with this. He'd thought that Dean would just magically remember and then he wouldn't have to bring up the war, wouldn't have to bring up his own failures and lay them all out there on the table for Dean to see how very much Seamus had failed them. Best fucking mates and Seamus just left him there, alive and hurt, because he hadn't been able to find a pulse and he'd been too busy scrambling to look properly or even defend themselves. 

 

The worst was that he'd done it himself, a quick offhand comment where he started to go on about how they'd gotten banged up on some of the missions and the Healers at St. Mungo's had done a good job fixing them and sending them right back out there. The war had gone on so much longer than it'd taken Harry to defeat Voldemort; it'd gone on for years after, spending their time searching out the renegade Death Eaters and the people preying on the Muggles and… and too many missions for him to think about. 

 

He'd been so stupid to think that Dean would just remember, that there was some magic word that would make it all come back and if Seamus showed him enough art galleries or drawings or photographs, that everything would come swimming back because, dammit, he was Seamus and that was Dean and they were closer to each other than to their own families. Didn't matter what the Muggles had tried with Dean, Seamus knew Dean better and he'd be able to find that stupid fucking magic word to bring it all back. Remind him who he was and that'd be that, they'd be back together in no time. 

 

The misery only expanded as he started to kick himself for giving up so quickly after he'd gotten Dean to realise that he wasn't crazy. Hell, Dean'd only been here for a couple of days. What did he do, though? He kicked himself that he'd been expecting something so fast and then he kicked himself for giving up and he was just so fucked up over this, so lost and confused and he just wanted Dean, his Dean, back. 

 

Tugging at his hair with clenched fists, his head sunk lower towards his knees as his mind wandered through all those thoughts. He didn't hear the door open but he did feel the bed sink under the weight of Dean next to him. 

 

"Bit of a slob, aren't you? Almost twisted my ankle on your trousers over there." 

 

"Yeah, sorry." Seamus didn't look up. Instead, his hands twisted deeper into his hair and the sharp pain of the tug kept him grounded. 

 

"I'm sorry for asking about the war. If you want me to go, it's… it's all right." Dean touched his arm and Seamus slowly pulled his hands out of his hair. 

 

"It's not all right. It's just hard, hard to be here and to know that what we went through, you don't have a fucking clue about. You don't have a clue and I envy that." He hadn't even realised that was how he felt until he'd said it. 

 

"Was it that bad?" 

 

"That's one way of putting it. We don't talk about it, the ones of us that were there, right there on the front lines. We don't talk about it because if we do, it's real. If we just ignore it, just drink a pint and watch some footie, we're all right because we can pretend that it's a really realistic dream that we had. But then we go home and we're alone and it's not just a dream. So, yeah, you could say that it was bad. I'm just not ready to talk about that yet." Seamus looked up at Dean and saw how very close he was. "I'll tell you anything else but I don't want to talk about that yet." 

 

"All right, yeah. It can't be easy to have me just reappear when you thought me dead all these years. I read the first letter you wrote to mum and…" Dean appeared so uncomfortable. "I'm sorry." 

 

"For what? Not knowing who you are? Not your fault. I'm just a fucked up Mick is all, don't be apologising for what isn't your fault." Seamus raked his hands across his hair one more time. 

 

"Maybe that St. Mungo's place could help. It's worth a try." Seamus could tell that Dean made the offer for Seamus and not for Dean. 

 

"Aye, maybe." Seamus looked around the room and spotted the box of photographs and drawings that he hadn't shown Dean yet. It wasn't time yet, not quite, to show Dean what they'd been together. "Let's go do something, am sick of me flat." 

 

"Like what?" 

 

Seamus was at a loss. If it were a normal Saturday, one without Dean, he'd normally head to the pub, get a pint and watch some footie. When they'd been together Before, there'd been missions and reunions, hot sex and lazy afternoons spent talking. None of any of the scenarios fit very well in the current reality. Then, he saw his trainers lying in a heap on the floor and there was a pair of shorts next to them. 

 

"You still play football?" Dean nodded slowly in response to Seamus's question. "I'm sure there'll be a pick-up game in the park." 

 

"Yeah?" Seamus grinned and nodded. "All right, let's go. If not near you, I know of one by me." 

 

"Brilliant." 

 

As the afternoon passed, Seamus felt more and more comfortable with Dean as they passed back and forth and traded jibs with the other team. Seamus wasn't the quickest and certainly wasn't the best player, but the competitiveness, the defence of 'us against them' settled his nerves and he forgot, for an afternoon, that Dean wasn't the Dean from Before. 

 

They laughed or offered a helping hand when one or the other fell and then both went straight back into the game. At the end of the afternoon, dirty and sweaty, they went to a pub with the rest of the lads they'd played with and Seamus felt normal. 

 

"And did you see Seamus there swearing and yelling 'oi oi oi' like an arse? Christ, he must've had at least three blokes on him but he kept wanting the pass. What were you going to do, run between their legs?" Seamus tossed a rude gesture towards the bloke mocking his height.

 

"Next round's on you just for that, mate."

 

"I'm sure he makes up for his height in other ways… like cursing. How many times did you say 'fuck' this afternoon? Favourite of yours, isn't it?" Dean slapped him across the shoulder and then drank out of his pint.

 

"Oi, fucker, that's me lager there!" Seamus joined in the laughter at his expense as he realised that he'd used the word one more time. For spite, he reached out and grabbed Dean's pint. After taking a drink, he was tempted to spit it back in. Instead, he swallowed, made a face and then a jib about British ale. 

 

Evening passed and Seamus figured out that he hadn't spent a day and night like this in more than four years. When the pub closed, all the blokes stumbled out with promises for next week's match and their own performances. As they walked, they lost companions until Dean and Seamus were the only ones left. Dean slung a companionable arm around Seamus's shoulders and they continued walking. Seamus leaned in to the embrace and felt complete and happy. He was quick to cross himself at the thought, sending a prayer of thanks that from the emotional rollercoaster of the morning, the day was ending on such a good note at night. They didn't speak and that was all right with him, he'd rather just have the sound of the street and the weight of Dean's arm. 

 

When they reached the flat, Seamus transfigured the sofa into a bed and stumbled into his room before he could invite Dean to join him. It was enough that he still felt the weight of Dean’s arm over his shoulders and that memory soothed him to sleep and brought dreams of Before. 

 

The next morning, Seamus woke early, even with the late night before. He had a few calls to make and he didn't want Dean to hear them. The first call was to Parvati and, expecting it to last a while, Seamus slipped out onto the small balcony outside and shut the window behind him. 

 

"Hello?" 

 

"That's all I get, a hello? No nice to talk to you as it's been forever and a day? No where the hell have you been? None of that at all?" Seamus teased and was gratified to hear Parvati's breathy laugh. 

 

"Nice to talk to you as it's been forever and a day and where the hell have you been? Does that make you feel better?" 

 

"Aye, that it does. I'm better," Seamus didn't continue as he didn't need to. Parvati would know what that meant. During the war, she'd found her niche and it had surprised almost everyone that it was in healing. She'd fix them up and send them back out only to fix them up again. More than the physical wounds, Parvati would help with the mental. She'd always be willing to listen and, when needed, offer advice or a kick to the arse to get a body moving again. After Dean had died, she'd worked to put Seamus back together and that was a debt he'd never be able to repay, though it was also one that she refused to acknowledge.

 

"That's good, real good." He heard the relief in her voice and his smile faded.

 

"I've a favour to be asking. One you won't be believing when you see but it's true." 

 

"You've gone cryptic on me. Shall I divine what I think you mean from that or are you just going to ask?" 

 

"I've a… friend that's been injured, doesn't have any memories after eleven. You think you might be able to help him?" Seamus stumbled over the request.

 

"When did you want to bring him in?" That casual acceptance was what Seamus had craved and counted on. They hadn't spoken in two years and Parvati was still willing to help him, let him sweep back into her life and upset it. 

 

"Monday?" 

 

"Sure, Seamus, that's fine. Make it around noon and I can take a later lunch. I'm booked in the morning, though. To repay me, you'll have to come to dinner. We've missed you." The last was the only chastisement he'd get from her and it was the worse for it. She'd matured into an amazing woman that was completely comfortable in her own skin.

 

"Dinner, yeah, it's just that D… the friend is staying with me for a bit, until he gets things figured out." 

 

"Bring him for dinner then. Lavender won't mind." 

 

"All right, I'll see if he'll want to." There was a sigh on the other end and then silence. "What is it?" 

 

"Nothing, I'll see you tomorrow and we'll find a time for dinner." There was that uncomfortable silence again and then Parvati asked, "Bring Dennis, if you can, we haven't heard from him in awhile." 

 

"I'll do what I can. Thanks, lass." 

 

"Don't be such a stranger." 

 

When she hung up, Seamus raked a hand through his hair and breathed a sigh of relief. His next call was to Dennis and he left a message asking to meet for lunch and passing on Parvati's request for dinner. After that, he called his mam and left a message that he was well, better than before and that he'd be asking about time off for a holiday home. 

 

The last was to Dean's mum. Her voicemail picked up and he left a message, unsure of even why he was calling. "Missus Thomas, it's Seamus. Seamus Finnigan? Just wanted to let you know that Dean, err, that is, thanks for showing Dean the letters, appreciate it. I wanted to let you know that you shouldn't worry, he's here with me, not that that would stop you from worrying as you didn't exactly tell him about his past or anything, so obviously you were worried about something in his time with me but I wanted to just let you know because I know how it can be to worry over him and, Christ. Sorry about that, Missus Thomas, just wanted to let you know that he's all right and I know it's probably not what you're wanting but he has an appointment with one of our Healers and I… I just want him whole. He deserves it, doesn't he? To be whole? He doesn't know I've called but I didn't want you to worry and I've said that already, haven't I? Just, just know that I care about him too, he was my best mate before the rest and I just want to give him a chance. I'll keep you updated." 

 

Once the calls were done, he stayed on the small balcony and watched the world walk around below him. The poor sods stuck hurrying to work on a Sunday, the children bounding along in front and behind their parents, the couples walking hand in hand, all of it would've caused his heart to ache even a week ago. Now, he just watched and laughed at the antics of one particularly rambunctious child. 

 

When the child disappeared from sight, he went back into the flat, slipping through the window and grabbing whatever clothes didn't smell too horribly. After entering the kitchen, he saw the kettle on and grinned before pouring himself a cup. A quick check of the calendar gave him an idea of what they could do that day. 

 

The shower shut off and when Dean came out, the scent of his soap wafted out. Seamus inhaled deeply as he called out, "Want to see what makes the Wizarding world fantastic?" 

 

"Yeah, sure, you show me." Dean was shirtless, towelling off his hair as he walked into the kitchen. Seamus poured out some tea, tossed in a small bit of cream and added a pinch of sugar before handing it to Dean. 

 

Dean froze as he sipped. To cover the awkwardness of the moment – such a little thing, preparing a cuppa just as someone liked it – Seamus dug through the papers on the countertop for the tickets he'd forgotten he had. There were at least fifteen but he only really needed two. Waving them, he explained, "Quidditch, mate. You'll love it." 

 


	5. Chapter 5

"All right, yeah." Dean still looked flummoxed from the tea and Seamus put the tickets back down.

"Keep messing things up, don't I?"

"No," Dean protested. "I wasn't expecting it, is all. Mum can't get it right, you know. Always adds too much sugar and not enough cream."

"Yeah, all right," Seamus unwittingly echoed Dean's earlier sentiment and Dean started to laugh. Seamus shook his head at the oddness of the moment. It was only a cup of tea, after all. He hadn't even realised what he was doing until Dean had reacted. They'd done it for years and he might be out of practise but he still knew what Dean liked in his tea.

"Match isn't until this afternoon and wasn't planning on going but since you're here, I think you'll like it."

"Why weren't you planning on going?"

"Don't much care about either of the teams. Don't mind when it's the Kestrels or even the Cannons but it's the Bats versus the Catapults and, honestly, both teams are shite." At Dean's blank expression, Seamus continued to explain, "Quidditch, mate. It's a Wizarding game and, well, you'll see."

They spent the time until the game going to the market and picking up some food to stuff Seamus's pantry. They argued over vegetables and fruits, crackers and biscuits. Their food tastes were just as disparate as they'd been before and the familiar routine of arguing over food was comfortable. Seamus pretended that the past four years hadn't happened. By the time they had the items from the market sorted and put away, it was time to head out to the game.

"Where's this game at?" Dean asked as they gathered up a few items to take along.

"Near Cornwall," Seamus answered off-handedly.

"Cornwall?"

"Aye." Seamus was confused about why Dean would be asking about the location or sound so disbelieving about it. Then the light dawned and he realised that Dean didn't know that they could Apparate the distance quickly or utilise a Floo connection. "Remember Apparating? That's how we'll be going."

"Oh, right." Dean didn't sound like he believed Seamus.

"Just grab a hold like before and we'll get going." Dean's arms came around him and Seamus held on to Dean's waist, not quite resisting the urge to press his face against Dean's chest. In a blink of an eye, they were at the Quidditch stadium in Bodmin Moor. "Come on, let's find our seats, maybe get something to eat."

Seamus tugged Dean through the crowd, holding on to his arm. Dean kept stopping and staring. Finally, Seamus gave up on getting them through the crowd; instead, he let Dean set the pace. There were so many different clothes and accents. Combining the sheer variety of people with the puffs of coloured smoke or the eruption of cheers and magic and Seamus could see why Dean was gaping. Seamus had forgotten how crazy and chaotic a Quidditch match could appear to someone. He'd completely forgotten the first time his mam had taken him to see the Kestrels. His expression had surely mirrored the one that Dean was currently wearing.

"Pretty crazy, isn't it?" Seamus nudged Dean's hip with his own.

"There's just so much, isn't there? So much magic and stuff. Did you see that?" A child walked past with a catapult that hurled small bits of candy at passers-by. Smoke bats swooped through the air and Dean ducked as one got too close to him. Seamus reached up a hand and swiped it through the black smoke, causing it to dissipate into the air.

"Wait until you see the action," Seamus said with a grin and then pulled Dean to the ticket taker, handing over the tickets and then they walked up to the box. It was a Ministry box so it was filled with people from work. He didn't recognise anyone there, though, and relief swept through him. Dean might not be ready to meet more people that he didn't remember. The announcer's voice echoed through the stadium and the players came flying out on their brooms.

"Holy shit," Dean gasped. "They're on brooms. Brooms!"

"Aye, Nimbus 4000s, to be exact. They're the newest broom on the market and they sure make the game faster. That guy there, he's a Beater. His job's to keep the Bludgers from hitting anyone on his team." Seamus pointed to the man that flew close to the box before sweeping back into the centre of the stadium. "That one? He's a Chaser. He's to put the Quaffle in the hoops you see at the end. There's a bloke called a Keeper that tries to keep that from happening."

The players flew to the centre of the pitch and landed on the ground. "They're about to toss the balls into the air."

"Blimey, this is crazy!" Dean exclaimed as the players took to the air after the balls. "How the hell do they do that?"

"I'll have to get you up on a broom. You used to love it, was on the Gryffindor House team, actually. You were good at it; beat me out to be on the team, actually." Dean's wide-eyed gaze swung over to Seamus and he laughed. "Christ but I was pissed, too. Pouted for weeks until you beat the shit out of me and we were back to friends."

"I did… I did _this_?" Dean looked gobsmacked.

"Aye. Watch now, Farrelly's going to go after the Snitch, it's the little gold thing flying about. He's a Seeker and not a good one, to be honest."

The game continued but Seamus stopped watching it. He'd seen it plenty of times before. What he hadn't seen in years was the gobsmacked expression on Dean's face. It was like they were eleven again. Just like back then, Seamus pointed out plays and fouls and Dean absorbed it all.

"Send him off, ref! Red card!" Dean burst out and Seamus, stuck in the past, suddenly couldn't breath. "Dammit, did you see that? They didn't even call it, are they sodding well… Seamus? You all right?"

"You, you sa – " Seamus stumbled over what to say to explain the wrench and ache. "I need a minute. Be back."

He hurried out of the box and once outside, leaned against the wall, trying to get control of the swirl of emotion. It was just like the first time they'd watched Quidditch together. Just the exact same, right down to Dean's exclamation. Seamus's hands shook as he pressed his back against the wall. He clenched his fists until they stopped their shaking and he felt a bit steadier. When he opened his eyes, he barely bit back the startled yell. Dean was standing directly in front of him.

"You all right?" Dean asked. "Cause if I said something wrong back there, or whatever, I'm sorry."

"No, it's just, when you saw your first match when we were kids, you said the same thing and it sort of got to me. It's nothing." Seamus shrugged off the emotions. "Come on, we're missing some good goals."

Seamus and Dean walked back into the box. As the game wore on, one then two then three hours passing, Dean continued to watch the action and yelled at the referees and players. He picked up the terminology quickly and, soon, Seamus went back to watching Dean instead of the game. It was almost surreal to see the excitement and hear the exuberant utterances after so many years of doing without. He ignored the impending appointment and the strain that it might put between them already.

He wondered how he was able to deal with Dean being right there and not immediately tackle him, cling like a wanton geebag until Dean protested the treatment. It was almost as if he was in a state of denial and fear, like this whole thing was merely a dream that was going to disappear if he enjoyed it too much. Just in case this was true, he absorbed and catalogued every gesture and expression. He memorised the way that Dean leapt from his seat to scream or exchange high fives with the man next to him depending on what was occurring on the pitch.

When the game finally ended, seven hours later, Seamus was exhausted. They walked towards the Apparition zone and Dean was talking like a man possessed, arms flailing as he re-enacted certain manoeuvres, including the way that Donaldson captured the Snitch to put the Catapults up at the end of the game.

When they got back to the flat, Dean was still talking, fingers occasionally brushing Seamus's face or shoulder.

"Mate, this was the best, thanks. I can't believe that this sort of thing exists! This was just as good as footie, gotta tell you."

"Welcome," Seamus responded with a grin. "I get free tickets all the time so we can go to another game, if you'd want."

"Want? God, do I ever. This was bloody fantastic!" Dean flopped onto the sofa, arms outstretched and laid his head back against the cushions, closing his eyes. "I'm knackered, though, absolutely knackered."

"Yeah, me too." Now was the time to tell Dean about the appointment with Parvati. He lost his courage, though, in the face of the bliss and happiness of the day. "See you in the morning."

"Sure, yeah. We can actually have breakfast now that you finally have some food in this place. I'll cook, if you want."

"Sounds good. Night." Seamus crawled into bed, clinging to the spare pillow. When he fell asleep, he had a smile on his face. This had been the best day he'd had in four years.

~~**~~

When morning came, it dawned dark and dismal. If he believed in omens, Seamus would take it for a bad sign of what was to come. It's a good thing, then, that he doesn't believe in them, hasn't since playing around with his homework back at Hogwarts and getting shining marks to reward the faking. For the first time since he moved into the flat, he worried about going outside his bedroom. The reason for it was simple, he hadn't told Dean about the appointment. Worse, he'd omitted the information on purpose.

They'd had a brilliant time at the Quidditch match yesterday. The look on Dean's face had made sitting through the game worth it. The few people sharing the box hadn't gone to Hogwarts with him, so they didn't know Dean. They'd been able to be casual and friendly while Dean's face showed the wonder of watching the match. It reminded Seamus of going to the World Cup together, sharing a tent and re-enacting the manoeuvres. It had also reminded him of the seething jealousy he'd felt when Dean had gotten to be on the Gryffindor team while Seamus had been left to root – alone – from the sidelines. Sure, Nev had been there but that hadn't been quite the same thing, not when he was used to trying to best Dean's insults with ones of his own.

Seamus finally rose from the bed and, after a shower, put on clothing that was not only looked but actually was clean. It was short work to make it to the main room where Dean slept underneath a pile of blankets on the transfigured sofa.

"Dean?" Seamus reached down and gave Dean's shoulder a shake.

"Lemmesleep," Dean muttered and, after checking his clock, Seamus shook him again.

"Come on, mate, it's ten now. We've somewhere to be at eleven."

"Sod off." Dean made to roll over and Seamus gripped his shoulder harder.

"I might've made you an appointment at hospital and it might be at eleven." At this admission, Dean finally emerged from the cocoon of blankets. He raised an eyebrow and then huffed.

"Sure of yourself, aren't you? What if I don't want to go?"

"You said you'd go, so I made the appointment." At least Dean hadn't thrown anything at him, whether it was a fist or a chair.

"All right." Dean rolled out of the bed and went towards the bathroom. "I have time for a shower, right?"

"Aye, you do."

That had gone better than Seamus had expected, especially considering how presumptuous it was of him to make that appointment with Parvati. It had seemed like a good idea until the time to implement it came, but at least Dean had seemed all right with it though the lack of enthusiasm was cause for concern. The water turned on and then, just a few minutes later, right back off. It was then that Seamus realised that Dean hadn't taken any clothes with him into the shower. Right on cue, Dean called out, "Err, Seamus?"

Seamus quickly Scourgified the worst of the wear out of the clothes and then walked them back to the bathroom and into Dean's outstretched hand. The temptation to grab that hand, haul Dean wet and naked out into the hallway and then lick the wet from his skin possessed him for an instant but Seamus caught himself before he could do more than linger against that skin. It was a small comfort to pretend that Dean's hand curled up against his through the fabric though.

The Tube ride to St. Mungo's went well, though Seamus couldn't quite get rid of the nervousness that coiled in his gut. Perhaps he should've sent word to Parvati that it was Dean that he would be bringing in. Perhaps he should've told Dean just what he might be in store for. Perhaps he should've… the thoughts weren't constructive and wouldn't help him get through this. When they reached Purge and Dowse, Ltd., Seamus spoke through the glass to the ugly dummy. "Seamus Finnigan and guest here to see Parvati Patil. We've an appointment."

"Are you mad? Why are you, oh that's cool," Dean started to ask but then caught himself when the dummy nodded and allowed them to enter.

They walked through the glass and into the reception area. They signed in, Dean first. When Seamus saw his signature, he remembered the first time Dean had seen his name written down. He'd laughed at it, pointing out that Seamus's name might as well be Hemus or Cuffus or Pleatus as far as the spelling of Seamus was concerned and what sort of shite spelling did the Irish do, anyway? Seamus had cuffed him but Dean didn't, wouldn't stop with the teasing. It had spilled into their time together, Dean calling him "Seem" instead of Shame or Shay, as his family did. It had prefaced every major event in their lives. "Seem," Dean had said as he told Seamus that he was dating Ginny. "Seem," Dean had said as he told Seamus that he'd broken up with Ginny. "Seem," Dean had said just before he'd kissed Seamus. "Seem," Dean had said when he'd asked Seamus to join the Order with him. "Seem," Dean had said when he said "I love you" for the first time. "Seem," Dean had said when he'd asked Seamus to move in with him.

"Seem," Dean had said just before he'd been hit with that curse.

The name haunted Seamus's dreams and the more he was around Dean, the more he wanted to hear it. The more he wanted what was before and not this awkwardness of now. He wanted them back so bad that he could taste it but he wouldn't do a thing until he heard that name. It was something only _Dean_ would know.

"Did you see what happened to that bloke?" Dean pointed towards a man with an elephant's trunk for a nose.

"Probably got hexed for sniffing after the wrong bird, mate. Fourth Floor, please," Seamus requested as they entered the lift.

He wasn't quite sure where Parvati's office was so he was counting on the reception dummy to inform her that they were here. As they wandered down a hallway, Seamus saw her coming and then she stopped, fist against her lips. Dean continued walking though Seamus had stopped and they bumped into one another. Seamus stepped to the side and watched Parvati stare and then watched the tears form. She collapsed to the ground and Seamus hurried over and helped her to her feet.

"I should've told you who I was bringing," he whispered.

"Is that…"

"Aye, found walking in London with no memory of anything after eleven."

"So he doesn't…"

"No, doesn't remember the war, Hogwarts," Seamus paused as he looked everywhere but at Parvati. "Doesn't remember me, doesn't remember us."

"Oh, Seamus." Parvati embraced him tightly. She didn't need to say anything more, her exclamation was enough, the inherent sympathy in it had tears prickling and Seamus wiped at his eyes behind Parvati's back.

After letting go, Seamus and Parvati walked towards Dean. "Dean, this is Parvati, err, Healer Patil. She's a friend of mine, good with listening."

Dean reached out to shake Parvati's hand and looked confused. "I knew you, too, didn't I?"

"I'll, err, I'll leave you both to it." Seamus hurried away before he broke down.

It was only after he was back in the lobby that he realised that he hadn't asked for a time to be back. Parvati had her ways to get a hold of him so he wandered out into London. What he thought was mindless wandering took him to Dennis's door before he noticed.

His first knock went unanswered. The second did as well. The third, however, received a thud against the door. Wondering if it was worth the risk, Seamus unlocked the door with his wand and opened it a crack. When nothing impacted, he opened the door further and called out, "Dennis?"

"Go 'way!" A shoe came flying and hit the door.

"Dennis, I'm coming in." Seamus opened the door and, when nothing sailed towards him, he thanked the maker and entered the flat the rest of the way. Dennis was sprawled on the sofa, huddled under a blanket with more empty bottles than Seamus had ever seen anywhere other than a pub on a Friday night. "Oh, Dennis, what've you done to yourself?"

"They're gone, Seamus, they're all gone." The words were whispered and Seamus felt the pity well within him. He'd been so fixated on his own reunion that he'd forgotten that there wouldn't be any happy endings for Dennis. Colin's body had been buried with all the pomp and circumstance it deserved. Dennis hadn't cried as they'd lowered him into the ground before the giant monuments to those that had died in the war. Seamus's own grief and loss had been too fresh and the loss was just more piled on top of others.

"I know, mate, I know." Seamus carefully shut the door and carefully wove his way through the trash. He sat on the end of the sofa and Dennis lunged up and around, scattering the blanket and wrapping his arms around Seamus's waist.

"Why can't he come back too? Why 'm I alone? Was better when we were alone together, was loads better."

Seamus brushed down Dennis's hair. "Sh. He wouldn't want you like this, Dennis. He'd want you happy."

"Am tired of seeing him and knowing that it's not true. Am tired of the looks and the pity and the expectations and…" Seamus kept brushing across Dennis's hair as he clung. "I just don't know anymore, just can't do this anymore. Going to break and…"

"Then break, Dennis, break and we'll be here to put you back together. We're still here, you know, Parvati and Lavender were asking about you and if you can't deal with London, then there's Nev. I'm sure he'd be willing to have you stay for a bit, get away and rebuild yourself." It was almost as if Seamus granting permission was enough for Dennis as he opened up into gut wrenching sobs that came from deep within. They hurt to listen to, more terror and sorrow than tears in them as he cried. Seamus wondered, as the sobs continued, if this is what he had sounded like in the middle of the night, curled around Dean's pillow.

The pain was still fresh and Seamus wasn't quite sure how he was able to stay there and listen, offer comfort, when he, himself, was just as fucked up as Dennis was. He had no remembrance of what kept his hand brushing down Dennis's head, smoothing the mess of hair and playing with the cowlick.

When hands brushed skin, Seamus didn't realise at first, didn't think anything of it when Dennis's hands snuck under his shirt and brushed across his stomach and up his chest. Lips quickly followed and Seamus shuddered under the onslaught. They felt wrong but ever so right as Dennis sucked in the skin just to the right of his belly button, nipping at it before letting go and licking it. Seamus arched into the touch as Dennis turned to lick across his stomach, following the thin trail of hair to his waistband and undoing the fastenings on his denims. Breath brushed across skin and Seamus jumped off the sofa, fumbling with the button and zipper to get them closed.

"Fuck's sake, what the fuck?" Seamus finished fastening his denims and then slid his hands down his shirt, smoothing his hands across his chest and reassuring himself that Dennis hadn't gotten far.

"Just want to feel alive, thought you'd understand."

"Fuck, Dennis, fuck. Can't do that, won't do that. Jesus God." Seamus paced back and forth as he cursed. Dennis stood and moved to block Seamus's path. He raised his hands to press against Seamus's chest, stopping him in his tracks.

"I'm sorry, Seamus," Dennis whispered.

"Don't be doing that again, I mean it." Seamus pulled the hands off his chest.

"I won't." Dennis looked towards the ground.

"All right." And that was that. They sat on the sofa and flipped through the channels aimlessly until they settled on a footie match. That it was West Ham had Seamus's thoughts going back to Dean, what he was going through right now, if they'd done any tests or if the problem was solvable, if he should've left. The thoughts kept swirling even as Seamus concentrated on staying to his side of the sofa, careful not to touch Dennis at all.

As his thoughts repeated for the twentieth time, Seamus finally gave up and left before Dennis could say anything. He muttered a quick, "see you at Parvati's" and left it there. After looking about the alley behind Dennis's building, he Apparated to a safe spot a couple blocks from the hospital. The trip to the Fourth Floor was quick, though he found himself tapping his hand against his leg in a chaotic beat that did nothing for his nerves.

And just why was he nervous anyway? Dean'd be back if he had his memories back. _They_ would be back if Dean had his memories. Except that Seamus wasn't quite sure of that. They'd changed in the four years since, built lives that diverged completely. Hell, Dean hadn't even thought of Seamus in at least three and a half years.

Seamus paused as he started to exit the lift. That small curl of vitriol towards Dean's mum hadn't twisted and turned until Seamus was blaming Dean for his lack of memories, had it? It couldn't have. Seamus knew that there had to be a reason for the loss of memories. Dean wouldn't choose to lose those years, no one would. But there was that little niggling voice in the back that kept saying that while Seamus had been suffering, Dean had been living his life without Seamus happily enough and that wasn't fair. It absolutely wasn't fair that Dean hadn't been stuck in a circle of loss and grief while Seamus had clung to the few things he'd been able to keep.

The doors dinged and Seamus finally slid through them. He breathed through his nose as he silenced that voice, pointing out that they'd only been talking for less than a week, in the grand scheme of things. It was asking quite a bit that Dean would jump right back into his original life after being shown a handful of photographs and a drawing or two. Didn't matter that Seamus kept sharing stories, this wasn't Dean's fault. It didn't quite silence that voice and he hated the voice and himself for doubting.

Wandering down the hallway, Seamus looked about for Dean or Parvati. Near the end of the long corridor, he saw them sitting together in a small cosy office. They were laughing and Seamus felt even more excluded. Before they could see him, he went back to the waiting area and took a seat, tapping thumb and forefinger on his upper leg as his foot joined the noise. He was only out there for a few minutes when Parvati and Dean returned.

"Good news, Seamus – " Parvati started.

"Ready to go?" Seamus interrupted as he asked Dean. Dean, for his part, exchanged a confused look with Parvati before nodding.

Without another word, Seamus turned and headed towards the lift. His fingers curled into fists as he bit back all the thoughts that wanted to spill out. It wasn't fair to lay all of this onto Dean, even more unfair than Seamus suffering as he had.

"Have a good talk?" Seamus asked as he stabbed the button to get the lift moving, once it arrived, instead of relying on the resident ghost.

"Yeah, I have to come back tomorrow for some tests since we didn't have time today and Vati knows a specialist that she thinks can help so she's – "

"'Vati', is it? Getting to be the best of friends, are you?" Seamus couldn't help the jealousy that flared and fuelled his irrational anger.

"She's a nice girl, easy to talk to."

"Yeah, I'm sure it's a lot easier to talk to her than to me," Seamus spat as Dean's head swivelled and he stared at Seamus.

"Something happen while you were out?" Dean's tone was even though Seamus could hear the burgeoning anger. For reasons he didn't want to think about, it satisfied him to think that Dean was getting mad.

"Four fucking years is what happened. Four fucking years alone and when I find you again, you talk to some-fucking-one else. Hell, you ran from me but you're awful chummy with someone you just met." The lift doors opened and Seamus stormed out. Dean's hand on his shoulder made him slow before he shrugged it off. "Don't touch me."


	6. Chapter 6

"Jesus, Seamus, I don't know what brought this on. You wanted me to talk to Parvati. You wanted me to come here and now you're pissed at me?" Seamus froze at Dean's beleaguered tone. "I can't help not remembering you. It's not like I had much choice in the matter."

Just like that, Seamus switched from pissed to mortified."I…"

"No, you had your say, it's my turn. You don't want me around, I'll leave. Doesn't mean that I'm going to stop trying to figure out who I was, though. There's a good chance that they'll be able to help me and I'm going to take it."

"I don't want you to go," Seamus admitted quietly.

"You think it's any easier for me? You think it's easy to be here? You think that I'm cool with everyone else knowing my life when I don't? I'm sorry, all right? I'm sorry that I don't know you other than the last month or so. I'm sorry that I didn't come to you years ago but I didn't know about you because no one told me."

"You're right," was all that he said as he left the lift. He felt the same so it wasn't like he had much of a defence for his anger though it was still there. "Let's just go back to the flat. 'S not the place for this sort of talk."

The rest of the trip was made in silence. On the Tube, Seamus flung himself into a seat, kicking his legs out and weaving his hands together across his stomach. Dean, for his part, sat on the opposite side and mirrored the position.

Once they were in the flat, the silence continued. It felt like a Boggart in the closet, crouching and waiting to jump out while assuming Seamus's worst fear. Every minute only intensified that feeling. Seamus couldn't take it anymore.

"There's this thing called a Boggart, nasty bugger and it –" This time, it was Seamus that was interrupted.

"What's this got to do with anything?" Dean asked from his spot on the end of the sofa while flipping through the channels of the telly.

"Just let me finish here and would you please stop that?" Seamus gestured towards the remote. Dean put the remote down so Seamus went on, "Look, so this Boggart is a creature that assumes the shape of your worst fear. Back in third year, we had to figure out how to defeat it. Your Boggart, if I'm remembering correctly, was a hand that skittered along the ground. Mine, back then, was a banshee. Scary nasty bitches, banshees, every Irish kid grows up with stories of them and how they'll kill you. Had such a fear of banshees back then."

Seamus paused as he thought how to put the next bit. "Four years ago, my Boggart changed to you lying on the ground in a crumpled heap. Happened so quick, you know? I didn't get a chance to do much other than check for a pulse before I was stunned. Order arrived and took me away but they left you behind. It wasn't like I could protest cause I couldn't move, yeah? Went a bit mad after that, withdrew from everyone and went on these suicide missions but not a single one ever killed me. Kept doing that until Parvati talked to me, listened, really fucking listened, and she helped put me back together best I could go."

Dean was still silent and Seamus raked a hand through his hair before sitting on the arm of the sofa. "Look, what I'm trying to say here is that I'm trying to keep myself together and I'm not doing so well. I've got you back, but I don't, yeah? Just lately, it's me talking and you being quiet and, well, Christ, I'm sounding like a geebag. I'm a bit hurt by it and that's not your fault and I'm not meaning to take it out on you but it's there all the same. I know you're having problems but I'm as well so a bit of patience on both our parts?"

The silence continued with Seamus staring at Dean and Dean looking at the black screen of the telly. He was just about to give up, go make a cup of tea or head to sleep or something when Dean started to speak.

"I was just suddenly walking in London. One minute, I was eleven and the next, it seemed, I was twenty-one and no idea how I got to the spot I was in. Took me awhile to find the Tube station and then I went home and I didn't have my keys so I knocked and knocked until my mum opened the door. She fainted dead away, just collapsed to the ground. I was so scared, had no clue what the hell had been happening to me and it didn't help that mum just dropped like a stone. My dad came out and he fell into a chair. There I was in the doorway and I didn't recognise a single thing in the house. My mum and dad looked so old. Biggest shock was my one sister, though. She was pregnant, belly out to here," Dean gestured for a belly the size of a football, "and she waddled right over and slapped my face. Stung quite a bit but then she hugged me and cried. When mum came to, she just kept crying too. They all did, even my other sister when they were finally able to ring her. We went to hospital and they couldn't find anything about why I didn't remember the previous ten years. Went to another and another and another and another. Kept going to all these specialists and no one could tell me anything.

"Finally, though, I gave up. Had to work around not having scores from school. Just wasn't worth looking for my own place, you know? A bit of familiarity was enough and, well, I just wanted to stay where it was comfortable. First time I saw you on that bench, I didn't recognise you at all." Dean's admission was said matter-of-factly and it was that much harder for Seamus because of it. "Can't help but wonder if maybe I'd thought you looked familiar that I'd've started to get something back."

"Let's not go into the what-ifs and the might've-beens," Seamus requested. If they started that, he was quite sure that he'd admit where they'd been and the dreams he'd had of their future. He wasn't quite sure that he was ready for that. "Let's just work from here. Parvati's the best, she'll do a good job."

"She said that we all went to school together. She also mentioned that we're to have dinner with her and Lavender later this week?"

"We're going, then?" The thought of going for dinner made him nervous and he wasn't sure if it was because Dennis would be there or if it was because they were going together, almost like a couple.

"Thought it might be fun, Parvati thinks it'd be a good idea."

"All right, then, dinner it is. She mention anyone else?"

"Yeah, said something about Dennis maybe being there. She said that we were all in Gryffindor together. Dennis and me, we got along, didn't we?"

"For the most part. I mean, he was quite a bit younger than us, three years, I think. We were all in a… a group together, though. He's a good lad, it's just that…" his voice trailed off as he tried to think of a way to explain just how Dennis was now.

"Yeah?"

"He's not well. There were a lot of losses during the War and after. Dennis lost his brother, Colin, and he, um, he took it hard. He's not well, so just be sure not to mention Colin, all right?"

"Colin? He the one with the photographs?"

"Aye, yeah. Colin was a good bloke, bit annoying, actually. He was so happy about everything and so was Dennis. Hell, they were basically tied at the hip, never saw one without the other. When Colin died, I think it broke something in Dennis. Just be careful with him."

"Sure, no worries. It's not like I have memories of him anyway." Dean tried for a laugh and Seamus smiled in response.

"You'll have 'em eventually."

"Yeah."

"You will, Parvati's the best. You'll see."

"If I don't? Can't stay here for the rest of my life; have to go back to work soon. How long are you off?"

"If you don't, we'll take care of it then. Can always get a bigger flat, one with two bedrooms so you're not stuck on me sofa the rest of your life. So you go back to work and you'll be fine." Seamus hadn't even thought about work, he'd simply called and said that he'd be in later. The office hadn't improved much since Bagman's era and the Tri-Wizard Tournament and it wasn't like Seamus was all that important in the grand scheme of things. "Guess I should go back eventually, yeah?"

"If you want, you could go back tomorrow. Appreciate you being around and all that but I think I'll be able to find St. Mungo's myself and, well, I'm sure you'd rather be doing something than sitting around waiting for me to finish up."

At first, Seamus felt so hurt at the implication that Dean didn't want him around. Seamus didn't mind waiting, didn't care about work or any of that. He wanted to be there for Dean and that was that. Then he started to think that maybe Dean would want a bit of independence with this. After all, Dean had always been independent and that was sometimes the root of the problems they'd had; he'd been too independent for Seamus's jealousy to cope.

"Aye, could do that if you're sure you're all right. How about this, you lead the way to St. Mungo's and then I'll hare off to work after that? Just to make sure they'll let you in without a wand and all that?"

"Sure, thanks." Dean sounded relieved and the hurt curled again.

~~**~~

After the discussion with Dean last night, Seamus felt relieved to be heading into work. Though it had hurt when Dean had asked to do it on his own, Seamus understood where he was coming from and that helped ease the ache. Distance would help more, as well, perhaps it might even keep him from grabbing Dean's face with both his hands and pulling it down to mash their lips together, tasting the missed flavours of that mouth. Yes, distance would be good for them both.

Dean had navigated himself just fine, getting off on the right stop and the hospital had let him in without a wand. Knowing that he was meeting Parvati inside made it easier to walk away and head in to work. When he reached his office, he saw his overflowing box with all sorts of report demands and memos. Perhaps he'd been more missed than he'd thought as one of his favourite co-workers brought him a cup of the piss water that masqueraded as Ministry-supplied tea and stopped for a chat.

As soon as the man left, Seamus started sorting the papers. The first memo detailed requests regarding game scheduling so that the Obliviators could schedule proper personnel. The second made him think that someone had far too much time on their hands as he saw a memo on proper toilet tissue allotments per person per day and how the Auror Department, in particular, was going over their departmental allocation. Seamus would have to take the piss out of Harry the next time he ran into him.

The reminder of the Auror Department brought his mind circling back to Dean and the mess with Dennis. He'd made such a bollocks of everything with both of them. It wasn't fair of him to run off to Dennis whenever something happened with Dean. He wouldn't have done it Before and he shouldn't be doing it now.

Damn Before anyway. It had ruined so much of their lives. Seamus wasn't even sure why they'd established that routine or if he'd ever actually agreed to it. It'd just become habit to meet Dennis at the pub and drink until they both forgot. He was sure that Dennis relied on their meetings as much as Seamus had. They'd both been floating in their own seas of misery and it had been almost easier to drift together, to know that someone else out there understood the pain of loss and guilt at not being able to protect.

Was that why he'd eventually agreed to the routine? Because Dennis was stuck in the same emotional turmoil? Had they really been helping each other stay afloat or had they only been reinforcing the confusion and pain? Had he continued to meet with Dennis because it showed him that there was someone out there that was worse off than him?

Seamus couldn't answer any of the questions. They made him feel guilty and brought up too much of the loss and not enough of the recent reunion. He didn't want to think about it but not thinking about it hadn't got him very far in all the years since he'd lost Dean. He needed help. Perhaps at the dinner, he could ask her to meet with him, help him with all of this. Maybe she'd help him get out of this cycle of confusion and pain and guilt and happiness.

Head spinning, he went back to his memos. It took his mind off of everything else to fulfill some of the report requests with statistics and the benefit versus cost ratios for the various locations proposed for the next Quidditch World Cup. His distraction didn't much matter. The numbers were the numbers and he only had to copy them onto the parchment in the appropriate order.

Besides, if he did bugger this job up, there were plenty of others. They might not pay as well but with Dean there to help with the bills… he pulled his thoughts back away from Dean and went back to his paperwork. The stadium that the Kestrels played in would make a good possible candidate location and it was in Ireland so he'd be supporting the local economy. There were plenty of pubs around, pubs like the _Howling Banshee_ where Dean and him had spent the summer before seventh year getting pissed.

Work wasn't helping much, especially after he'd written about the merits of the _Howling Banshee_ on his most recent copy of a report detailing stadium capacity. He couldn't stop wondering just what Dean was going through. It was far too tempting to call it a day, head to St. Mungo's and find out. The only thing stopping him was that Dean had asked to do this on his own. He cursed himself under his breath before going back to the mind numbingly boring tasks of capacity comparisons.

Quitting time couldn't come early enough, especially when he caught himself longing for one of the Weasley's Skiving Snackboxes. Who said that Noseblood Nougats were only for school children? A nosebleed right about now would give him enough of an excuse to call it a day and head home. Then again, as he copied his completed report into triplicate, a nosebleed could come at any time caused by the sheer amount of boredom.

~~**~~

Dean scratched at his neck, uncomfortable with the testing. Parvati kept waving her wand and then writing things down before going back to waving her wand. First a pink glow and then a purple one enveloped his head. Parvati muttered to herself and then wrote a few more notes down.

"That good or bad?" Dean asked as the pink glow came again.

"Hm?" She looked up, startled, and then flushed. From her reaction, it was obvious she'd been completely entranced by what she was doing and it appeared like she'd almost forgotten he was there. "Oh, right, sorry, it's interesting."

"Interesting?" Dean cocked an eyebrow.

"It looks like there's some sort of spell damage, which I suspected." She cast another spell and seemed to slip back into that concentration but then she asked, "So, how'd it go with Seamus last night?"

"What?"

"Seamus. Last night. He seemed a bit abrupt and upset. I wanted to make sure things were all right with the two of you." A blue glow emanated as she cast another spell.

"He's feeling a bit off, I guess. It can't be easy to just have me reappear, we're both having problems, I guess." He didn't want to betray the confidences but Parvati was trying to help him and he felt like he should tell her everything, "He said that he wants me to talk more, that he's always talking and I'm just quiet but that's the way I am. I don't know if that's the way I was but…"

"But he needs to know the you of now, too, doesn't he?" Parvati sat on the edge of her desk, her Healer's robes floating around her. "This can't be easy on you, either. You thought you were a Muggle, didn't know anything about magic and then suddenly here he is telling you that you're someone else and then there's all the magic floating about. It has to be really odd for you."

"Yeah, it is. I mean, he just made light out of his wand or just cleans with a sweep of his wand and there I am, picking up everything piece by piece. And… and it's weird to know about it now and it doesn't help that my family didn't tell me a thing about it. They acted like they didn't know anything about this. Hell, when Seamus first approached me, I freaked out. He came back and gave me this box of photographs and a sketch of the two of us. I still didn't believe him." Dean paused, unsure how much to tell. "I think I hurt him when I didn't recognise him right away."

"Of course you did." Dean's gut twisted. Seamus was quickly becoming important to him. Some of it must've shown on his face because she continued, "It's not your fault and it's not his. The hurt's bound to happen. You're both different people now and you need to learn about each other. You two, well, you two were…" she trailed off and he could tell that she was trying to think of how to describe their relationship, "…inseparable, so Seamus has had a lot to go through. He didn't deal well with your death. Took a while but he got better bit by bit. Rediscovering you rocked the shaky foundation he had. Do you have the photographs that he gave you?"

Dean nodded and pulled out a couple of the photographs and the sketch. "The sketch, there's something about it that I keep going back to."

Parvati looked at the drawing and her hand covered her mouth once more. He wasn't at all sure why she seemed to have such a strong reaction.

"Did he explain about it?"

"I didn't ask. You can tell that we were mates, just looking at it. I probably drew it for him because of that." He handed her the photographs. "He's a very tactile person, isn't he?"

"What makes you say that?" Parvati looked through the photos and traced a finger across the one of the group of them.

"In the photos, we were always standing with an arm around one another or something, even the ones when we were twelve." Dean felt stupid for thinking the next part but considering that Parvati was there to help, he continued, "He keeps touching me now, too, but then he apologises for it. He pulls away and watches me for my reaction."

"Are you all right with him touching you?" The question seemed odd to Dean.

"Yeah, it's fine. We were mates, yeah? I don't mind. Why do you ask?"

"No reason, I do more than just heal physically. You can talk to me; whatever you say in here is kept between us. So whether it's about Seamus or your family or your frustration, you can talk to me."

"Ok, thanks."

She smiled and started to cast another few spells. The colours switched from green to blue to purple.

~~**~~

When Seamus entered the hallway, he saw Dean and Parvati standing together talking. They looked up and the smile that split both their faces melted the frustration of the day. He smiled back and hurried his approach.

"You're looking awfully happy," he remarked when he reached them.

"Vati ran some tests and it's looking like she might have an idea of what happened. The specialist didn't have time today so I'll come back tomorrow to meet with him." Dean's grin went from ear to ear. Seamus gave Dean's arm a squeeze, unable to resist the urge to touch that happiness.

"That's amazing! Thanks, Parvati," Seamus said as he turned to her.

"All in a day's work. It is what I get paid for, you know." She looked at him oddly for a moment and Seamus wondered what Dean had said to her.

"You're the best." He kissed her on the cheek before turning back to Dean. "You about ready?"

"Yeah, sure," there was an exchanged look between Parvati and Dean that made Seamus nervous and then Dean continued, "we can get going."

"Seamus?" Parvati asked as they turned to go down the hallway back to the lifts.

"Yeah?" He turned around and, when she crooked a finger at him, he walked over to her.

"We'll be right out, Dean," she said before walking into her office. Seamus shrugged his shoulders and followed. Once inside, she pulled the door shut. "Dean tells me that you're having problems."

"What else he say?" Seamus tried not to sound defensive.

"Just that, that you're having problems but that you're trying. He told me you fought last night but that you explained that you're trying to adapt and it's not going so well."

"Wouldn't you have problems? I mean, it's not like you can prepare for your best mate to come back from the dead, now can you?" Seamus raked a hand through his hair before pacing the office.

"He's not just your best mate, though."

"Christ, but what would you do if Colin were suddenly in front of you with no memory of you? Would you be all right with that? You saying that you'd dance a jig and pick up where you left off, no problems?" Seamus spat at her and her face went closed for a moment.

"That was low, Seamus, very low."

"I'm sorry." When she didn't react, just continued to stare at him, he raked his hand through his hair once more and then moved closer. "It's not the same. He's not the same and it's odd because he looks the same and sometimes he says the same things and it jars me."

"You want to come in and talk? We could do it here or at my flat or yours. I just think you need to talk to someone about this, too."

"Yeah, maybe. Should tell you about Dennis, too." Seamus looked out the window where Dean leaned against a wall. "I haven't told Dean everything about back then, either. He doesn't know what we were, just that we were mates."

"I could tell from the way he spoke. You'll have to tell him eventually." She embraced him and then pulled back. "Now, what about Dennis?"

"Later, yeah? Not enough time for it right now."

"He rang me, told me that he was coming to dinner. Anything I should know before then? The short version, of course."

"He's not well, really not well." Seamus looked about the office and then finished, "That's all I can tell you in the short version."

"All right, then, we'll see how he is at dinner." She walked over to the door and opened it.

The walk to the lift and then the ride down was done in silence. The entire trip back to the flat was silent as they were both lost in thought. Seamus didn't want to lose the tenuous friendship they had right now. It was enough, dammit, enough that he wasn't going to fuck it up with telling Dean that they'd slept together, touched each other in every conceivable way. How would he start the conversation, anyway? It wasn't like he could say to Dean, 'look mate, so your cock used to slide right into my arse and Christ Jesus but it felt fucking amazing to have you deep inside. Only thing that felt better was when you sucked me off.'

They were at his door before he realised that they'd gotten off the Tube. He dug for his keys and, when he couldn't find them right away, spelled the door open.

"I'll cook dinner, if you'd like," Dean offered and Seamus turned and gaped. "What? I can cook, you know."

"Yeah? Only thing you ever cooked before was water for tea."

"When I was home all the time after… well, after, mum showed me how to cook to keep me out of her hair." Dean looked awkward at the mention of the time or his mother, Seamus couldn't tell which.

"You talk to her since you left?"

"No, not going to for awhile. I'm still fairly pissed about all of it. They kept everything from me and I don't have to forgive that." Dean looked fierce and Seamus reached out a hand and squeezed his wrist.

"They're your family. They did what they thought was best. I can see their point, to be honest. Magic didn't do nothing but give you problems. You ever want to hear about it, you let me know." Seamus started to let go but Dean pressed his hand over Seamus's.

"I want to know it all."

"All right, you start fixing dinner and I'll get changed out of me robes." Seamus walked in to the bedroom and quickly changed. By the time he came back out, Dean had something sizzling in a pan on the cooker while he chopped vegetables. Seamus sat at the small table and watched. Dean really did know his way around the kitchen and Seamus couldn't help admiring the way that he seemed so comfortable.

This was something they hadn't shared before. The most either of them could cook was heating up takeaway or water for tea. Instead of focusing on how much Dean had changed, Seamus chose to simply experience it. He watched as Dean slid the vegetables into the pan and then tossed a bit of this and a bit of that into it. Every once in awhile, Dean would turn and grin at Seamus, causing a small frisson to go through him. That grin, so self-assured, brought back fond memories of training together, the way that they'd practise spells and then go out for a pint, grinning over the food.

Dean set the food down on the small table with a flourish. "There you go, told you I could cook."

"We'll see, mate, we'll see. This is probably rubbish, just made to look like pretty rubbish." Seamus grabbed his fork and took a bite. It tasted divine, the way the flavours melded together. Seamus bit back the moan that threatened to erupt.

"Told you." Dean sounded far too impressed with himself. Seamus tossed a rude gesture towards him.

"So what do you want to know about?"

"I don't know, everything. What do you want to tell me about?" Dean pushed at the food on his plate.

"All right, well, told you we were best mates and I told you about how you saved my skin when we first met." Seamus wracked his brain for something other than how they'd slept entwined or how it felt to have Dean kiss him. "There was this guy, evil megalomaniac sort, and he had a bunch of followers. They called themselves the Death Eaters and they hated anyone that wasn't born to magic parents."

"People like me, then?" Dean asked and Seamus nodded.

"Aye, so our final year in school, you had to go into hiding and I got sent off to Hogwarts. We owled back and forth all the time, came up with our own code and everything. It was rough, really rough. Eventually, bunch of us ended up having to hide in the school and then Harry, you'll meet him at Parvati's dinner, he saved us, killed Voldemort though we lost a lot of people. You and me, we were right there fighting during the final battle. You were brilliant, mate, absolutely brilliant. We lost a lot of good people, though. We were only kids and we were fighting people with years of experience. That's where Colin died, Colin and a whole bunch of others. After the dust settled, you and me, we talked and decided to join the Aurors."

"Aurors?" Dean interrupted.

"They're sort of like the bobbies, make sure that no one's doing anything illegal. After our year of training, we were assigned to hunt a few of Voldemort's remaining supporters. We were good at it, too. One day, we got a bit of a suspicious tip about the location of one of 'em. The two of us went without back-up, we were such cocky bastards. God, if we'd had back-up…"

Seamus paused to collect himself for the next part. "We should've waited but we were so full of ourselves, so fucking full of ego that we went alone. Yaxley and Lestrange were supposed to be inside this one house but it looked empty. We watched for a bit and then I suggested we go in. As we crossed through this clearing, you got hit with something. I fired off a couple of spells. When I touched you, you weren't breathing. Swear to God there wasn't a pulse or nothing." Seamus's voice shook as he relived those moments.

"Yaxley came out of the building along with one of the Lestranges. I got hit with a Stunner and then a bunch of other Aurors came. They took me but they left you behind. Couldn't do anything about it. Couldn't even move let alone talk. By the time I could go back, your body was gone. I tracked everyone I could to try to find you. Didn't think you were dead, not then. Wouldn't think of it. Anytime someone would say it, I'd argue with 'em. Went a bit crazy, to be honest, went on missions on my own but I couldn't find you. When I'd tracked and…" Seamus hesitated over how to phrase the next part. "… and questioned them, they all said you were dead. Few months later, in an old warehouse, I found a body, burnt beyond recognition. Mediwizards told me it was you and I finally cracked, just broke into a thousand pieces. Parvati, she was the one stuck putting me back together." Seamus stopped the recitation of the past to reach out a hand and held on to Dean as if he were the anchor to life itself. "I swear I looked for you. I swear on all that's holy I did."

Dean's hand covered his and squeezed. "Not your fault."

"Aye, it was. It was my idea to go without more people. My idea to go across the clearing. My idea not to wait. My ego that said we didn't need anyone else. Me that didn't think they'd come out. Me that got stunned and couldn't tell anyone that you might be alive."

"My mum, when we were arguing, she said that you killed me and that's why I left when I did. I didn't believe her and I don't believe you." Dean squeezed his hand once more.

"But I did, I – " He would've continued but Dean interrupted.

"You didn't make me do anything."

"You don't remember!" Seamus yelled.

"Fuck you, Seamus! Fuck you if you think I would just do whatever you said. I know myself well enough to know that you can't make me do a damn thing I don't want to do now, let alone back then." Dean stood and started to pace. Seamus, shocked at the anger, merely gaped. "You know, between you and mum, you'd think that I didn't have a brain in my head, that I was completely incapable of thinking for myself."

Seamus moved to cut off the pacing, raising his hands in front of him. "Never thought that, y'ken? I never thought that once. It's more that I was the insisting one and you were the one that wanted to wait. I didn't listen, too stubborn for me own good."

"When are you going to realise that this isn't your fault? It's not yours, it's not mine." Dean threw his hands in the air and then threw himself back in to his chair, picking up the fork. Seamus stood there, at a loss for words or action. "You going to eat this or should I throw it out?"

Seamus sat.

"Now tell me something about school. Tell me about how you defeat a Boggart. Tell me a funny story about training. Tell me what my favourite spell was. Tell me about magic. Do some tricks." In all the demands, Seamus heard the main one – 'don't talk about me dying anymore'. He was all too happy to oblige.

"See, these Boggarts, only way to get rid of them is to laugh, so you had to turn them into something ridiculous. Nev, his Boggart back then was this professor and…"


	7. Chapter 7

Seamus felt awkward and out of place as he walked into Parvati and Lavender's flat. First, there were all the girly gewgaws about, little fairy statues and fabric on every surface. Then there was the group assembled around. Parvati hadn't mentioned that she'd basically planned a Dumbledore's Army reunion. Michael Corner was off to the side with some bird while Neville had his arm wrapped around Hannah Abbott. Harry and Ginny leaned in close together while Ron and Hermione poked at one another. Dennis sat on the sofa, alone and morose, while Lavender and Luna moved about in the kitchen. Padma was talking to Anthony Goldstein by the fireplace.

"Everyone? Can I have your attention?" Parvati called out and, slowly, everyone turned towards Parvati. "Seamus has some news."

He was standing in the doorway, Dean just out of sight to the side, and felt completely and totally put on the spot. He had sort of just planned on Dean walking in behind him. Then again, he hadn't planned on anyone other than Parvati, Lavender and Dennis.

"Um, that is, a few weeks ago, I, um, I met someone," he stumbled over the words.

"Who's the unfortunate soul?" Harry called out and everyone laughed.

"Not like that, wanker," Seamus said though there wasn't much heat to the words. The snickering continued as he stumbled over how to announce Dean's return, "Look, it's probably, ok, scratch that, it's going to be a shock when you see him but, that is, just, err, I mean –"

"What Seamus is trying to say is that I'm not exactly dead." Dean walked in to the flat and the room went completely silent. "Though I should say that I don't remember any of you."

Seamus closed the door behind him and then the questions erupted. How and why and where have you been all tumbled over and around each other. Neville hurried around the room to hug Dean and then Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny quickly followed. Shunted off to the side as more people joined the group, Seamus kept getting pushed until he was almost next to Dennis who only stared straight ahead.

"Dennis? How are you, mate?" Seamus asked as he sat on the arm of the sofa. He was feeling a bit left out but he'd had Dean to himself for over a week so he wasn't entirely upset. No, not entirely.

"Brilliant, of course, absofuckinglutely brilliant." Dennis sounded bitter as he stared straight ahead. "Been spending my time alone as you've been too busy to do shite."

"I… what?" Seamus gaped at Dennis. It had only been a few days since the last time they'd talked and the bitterness in was shocking.

"You turn me down like that and then faff off to whatever the fuck you've been doing and I'm supposed to be all right with that?" Dennis's voice slowly started to rise, getting louder and louder. "Oh, sure, no worries, Seamus, off with Dean while I'm stuck by myself. Why yes, I'm fine with you blowing off two years of spending time together. No worries, everything's great! Ignore me now that you've got Dean back. Fuck you, Dennis, I've got better company. Now, off you go by yourself, never mind how I've led you on with the snogging and shit."

The rest of the room went silent by the end of the diatribe. Seamus stared and felt the flush crawl up his neck and flood his face. Then the anger hit. "I never led you on, you fucking arse. I stopped you, didn't I? Stopped you before you did something fucking stupid. This isn't the time nor is it the place to be doing this. You want to talk about this shit, we can talk but not here and not right now."

"Oh no, wouldn't want darling Dean to know about any of this, would you?" Dennis stood and stumbled across the room. Everyone moved out of his way until he was standing next to Dean. Drunkenly, he put his arm around Dean's waist. "Wouldn't want you to know that Seamus here kissed me first, no matter what he says."

Dean looked from Seamus to Dennis to Parvati and back to Seamus. He looked confused and, to Seamus, like he was beginning to draw certain conclusions. Seamus didn't mind that he was gay, he was open about it, but he hadn't wanted Dean to know, not yet.

"Dennis, this isn't the place." Parvati attempted to intercede.

"Course it isn't. Well, then, I'll just be going," Dennis said while sneering at the group. "Wouldn't want to be the reminder that sometimes people die and they don't come back. Sorry for breaking up the happy reunion."

When he stumbled out the door, Parvati followed. Seamus went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of ale while the conversations in the main room started once more. He attempted to block them out but considering that there wasn't even a wall between them, Seamus didn't have much luck. Quickly opening the bottle, he started to chug it. The warm ale went down smooth and he thought maybe another five or six might possibly make a dent in the embarrassment.

"Shall we eat?" Padma asked.

Everyone went to the enlarged table and sat, the two empty chairs reminding everyone of what had just happened. With a flick of her wand, Padma brought the food from the kitchen to the table. Seamus shifted uncomfortably in his seat next to Dean, refusing to look over at him.

"Haven't seen that before," Dean said as the food landed on the table.

"Gone Muggle, have you?" Harry asked as he dished the potatoes onto his plate.

"Yeah, went home to my family and, well, didn't know about any of this stuff." Dean gestured towards the dishes and the rest of the table.

"So what do you do?" Neville asked from across the table.

"I'm a graphic designer." At the blank stares, he laughed and hastened to explain. "I do artwork for adverts and such on buses, mainly. Some magazine work, as well."

Raised voices from outside the door interrupted and the group started speaking louder, trying to drown out the argument.

"Have you thought of working for a Wizard magazine? Merlin knows you'd be better than half the staff they have at those rags." Hermione looked uncomfortable as something slammed into the outside wall.

"Hadn't thought of that, actually. I'm on a leave from my current job right now. Parvati, she's helping me with some of the stuff." Dean seemed to be all right with the topic at hand but Seamus was ready to change the subject if need be.

"So you don't remember anything?" Ron asked.

"Nothing from my eleventh birthday until I was twenty-one or so. It sort of felt like I woke up and was suddenly twenty-one. Went home and mum and the rest, well…"

"So you don't remember the Yule Ball?" Seamus flushed and then glared at Ron. He hadn't told Ron about afterwards, had he? He didn't think he had.

"No, why?"

"I wish I couldn't remember that horrible dance, either. Ron's robes were atrocious and he treated me like shit," Padma interjected. "Poor Parvati and I were stuck sitting there watching everyone else dance while Harry and Ron mooned."

"I didn't moon," Ron denied but then started laughing when Hermione nudged him in the ribs. "I was too embarrassed about my robes to moon."

"What was wrong with them?" Dean asked.

"They were horrible, looked like a dress." Ron's hands gestured towards his chest, "All this lace and these ruffles."

"I have photos somewhere," Lavender said. "I'll have to dig them out. Colin took a…"

The room went awkwardly silent. Seamus wasn't at all sure what to do to clear it up. Finally, he raised his glass and offered a toast, "To Colin, most annoying prat with a camera ever and thank God for that."

"To Colin," the rest of the table responded as the sound of glasses touching rims sounded.

"So what is it that all of you do?" Dean asked to fill in the awkward silence.

"Solicitor," Hermione said.

"Professor of Herbology at Hogwarts," Neville said while grinning.

"I own the Leaky Cauldron." Hannah tipped her glass.

"Quidditch player," Ginny said.

"Professor of Transfigurations at Hogwarts," Anthony said.

"Lav and I work at Witch Weekly," Padma said.

"Aurors, mate," Harry answered and gestured towards Ron and Michael Corner.

"Seamus said that's what we were, Aurors." Dean looked at Seamus and Seamus gave a wan smile back.

"You two were great. We were pretty pissed when Seamus left to go push papers for the Quidditch League. Not worthy of him, though I don't think anyone would turn down free tickets to a match or two every once in awhile." Ron looked at Seamus with pleading in his eyes.

"Mate, the Cannons suck bad enough that they're practically giving the tickets away, anyway."

"Sod off, Seamus. We go two years without hearing a peep from you and you only turn up to insult the Cannons?" Ron laughed and poked Hermione in the ribs. "Least you can do to make it up to me is to get me some tickets. Wouldn't mind some to the upcoming Cannons and Falcons game."

"Ron, you said you were going to come see the Harpies play." Ginny glared at Ron before tossing a roll at him.

"But it's the Cannons, Gin. I can come see you play any time but the Cannons? They stand a chance of winning a game against the Falcons."

"Just about as much of a chance as you getting Hermione to sleep with you after that little poke there." Ginny grinned and waggled her eyebrows as Ron and Hermione flushed.

"You're not supposed to – " The rest was cut off as Ginny interrupted.

"Not supposed to know about sex? Please, Ron, Harry and I've been together how long now?"

"Ginny!" Harry protested as he flushed.

"What? It's completely natural, isn't it?" Ginny looked around the table. "Dean, bet you don't remember kissing me. You were my first kiss, you know."

"Ginny! For fuck's sake, this ain't proper table talk." Seamus glared at Ginny as he watched Dean look around the table.

"It's not like I'm mentioning your preferences, Seamus Finnigan. I'm merely making conversation. I didn't mention that you were his – "

"Ginny, shush," Harry said as he looked towards Seamus. Harry might not be the most observant of people but obviously he'd picked up on how much Seamus hadn't told Dean.

"Has anyone been following the news about the trials coming up?" Michael interjected in a blatant attempt to change the subject as Ginny and Seamus glared at one another.

"Trials?" Dean asked.

"There's a couple of retrials coming up. Some of the Death Eaters from way back are repenting and asking for new trials. They're offering to give up evidence on others to get less time."

"Fuck them all," Seamus spat. "None of them deserve shit."

"Hear hear!" Michael raised his glass in a toast while Harry and Ron seconded the gesture.

Before anyone else could add anything, Parvati came back into the flat and sat at the table. Seamus looked to see if Dennis followed, but it was fairly clear that he'd left when a minute went past with no sign of him. When he made eye contact with Parvati, she shook her head.

"I see you all started without me." Parvati attempted to make a joke and Padma passed her some of the food.

"Dennis not coming back?" Lavender asked.

"He's decided that getting another pint is more important than dinner." Parvati sounded solid but Seamus could see the way that she continued to watch the door long after they'd finished dinner.

Drinks after dinner followed with various conversations and memories of Hogwarts. Ron and Harry told Dean about playing Quidditch together and the way that Dean had been picked over Seamus. Seamus took the teasing good-naturedly but as talk turned to their Auror training, his nervousness returned. Any minute now, someone was going to tell Dean what they'd been together and that would be the end of whatever tenuous re-establishment of friendship they had. Pretty soon, Dean would know and leave Seamus again.

Dean sat next to Seamus on the sofa as the conversation shifted away from Hogwarts into the various couples and Molly Weasley's none-too-subtle hints for grandchildren.

"Having a good time?" Seamus asked as they pressed thigh to thigh and continued up along their hips to their chests and shoulders.

"Yeah, though it's a bit weird. It's like you're all speaking a different language and I don't know all the words." Dean leaned in to Seamus to talk to him so that they could hear one another. He was close enough that it would only take an inch, maybe two, for Seamus to lean in and capture those lips. If someone was going to tell Dean, it might as well be Seamus. He might as well get at least a sodding kiss out of this entire fiasco.

"You'll get on to it," Seamus said instead of leaning in. He pulled back slightly and Dean looked disappointed for a moment. No, Seamus mentally corrected himself, not disappointed because he had nothing to be disappointed over.

"Sure I will. Parvati has these exercises she's certain will work. They've tried them on other spell-damaged people. I did tell you she thinks it's spell damage, right?" Dean was bumped as Goldstein sat on the arm of the sofa and his arm slipped so that his hand rested on Seamus's thigh.

"No, but that's what I was hoping it might be though chances are, it'll be permanent. We had this professor for Defence, poncy git by the name of Lockhart and he lost his memories and it was permanent. Blighter babbles on like he's stuck in the past. They put him in a mental ward."

"Parvati was telling me about him, just a bit. They say that he did it to himself though. She had this guy in from France who's certain that it wasn't an, err, what's the word, an _Obliviate_? She thinks someone went in and just sliced out certain things."

"Parvati? That true? You think maybe Yaxley and Lestrange grabbed Dean and experimented on him? Maybe this whole thing's the work of Death Eaters?" Harry asked. All the rest of the conversations stopped.

"I wasn't sure; we need to do a bit more testing and exploring to know for certain. There's no magical signatures that I could find. Healer Guérir is going to do some more testing in a week or so. For now, we're going to try to recover a few memories."

"That's just about something they'd do, too. Fuckers weren't satisfied with trying to take over the world and killing all the Muggleborns. I can see them trying to take away the memory of magic from them. When'd we get Lestrange anyway?"

"About…" Seamus thought hard to figure out when he'd captured the man. "About five months after Dean."

"Timing would fit," Michael offered. "Give Dean a month to find his way to London or heal or whatever. It'd certainly fit."

"Wait, what?" Dean looked from one to another as they talked over the theory.

"You can't do that, though. There isn't a spell on record that does that," Hermione interjected.

"They could've played with the Obliviate, though, made it a bit more insidious, better at targeting. Remember how you changed around the jelly-legs jinx?" Ron seemed deep in thought.

"Yeah, I could see that. Parvati, you think you could send over some of the notes?" Harry asked. In a way, it was like watching a tennis match with the way the conversation volleyed back and forth.

"I can't break confidentiality, Harry, you know that."

"Just the stuff relating to the damage, is all. I don't need to know about Dean's wet dreams that he recovers," Harry teased and the rest laughed.

"Would that be all right, Dean?" Parvati asked.

"Yeah, sure, if I had any clue what you lot were talking about."

"I think they're talking about what they suspect might've happened to you, although I could be wrong." Neville smiled at Dean and Dean grinned back.

"So what's Herbology anyway?"

"Oh shit, Dean, you don't have a clue what you just started!" Ron groaned theatrically. "He'll be on about plants for forever."

The conversation lightened for the rest of the evening as the group reabsorbed Dean into their midst. Slowly but surely, the couples started trickling out, first Michael and the girl that Seamus had never caught the name of and then Neville and Hannah before Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione left en masse.

"Dennis say anything else?" Seamus asked as Dean went to use the loo.

"He's just pissed off and feeling excluded. Course, drinking doesn't help him with any of it. I told him to sober up or get on with killing himself." Padma gasped at Parvati's outburst while Lavender and Seamus goggled at her. "What? It's true. He's trying to kill himself and I'm tired of watching him slide like he is."

"Don't you think that might spur him on?" Lavender asked as she rubbed a thumb over her breastbone where Seamus knew deep scars resided. None of them had escaped Hogwarts without scars. That Lavender had healed as well as she had from hers amazed Seamus. She'd been beautiful before but she glowed now. It was just a shame that she hadn't yet found a man willing to overlook the scars on her chest and shoulder.

"Maybe it will get him to wake up to his self-destructive ways. I'd rather talk about other things now, if it's all the same." Parvati looked around the room and Seamus couldn't help but to leap to her rescue.

"Maybe we could meet for lunch in a couple of days?" Seamus asked and he knew that Parvati knew that he'd just agreed to talk to her about the problems going on.

"I'm free rest of the week, just ring me before you come by," Parvati looked grateful.

"Yeah, fine, that'd be good." A yawn came out unexpectedly and he smiled at the group. "Dean? You about ready to go?"

"Sure," Dean said as he stood up and then hugged Parvati. "Thanks for having us."

"Glad you're back," Lavender said before embracing Dean and then turning to Seamus, hugging him and chastising, "And you, stop being such a stranger. I'm beginning to think that you thought I was too ugly to talk to or something."

"You? Ugly? Fuck's sake, Lav, you look in a mirror lately? You're gorgeous." Seamus kissed her on the lips, a quick brush across, and then hugged Parvati followed by Padma.

"I know well enough what I look like," Lavender said as she mock-glared and then swiped his shoulder. "Flatterer."

"Aye, that I am but I'm also speaking the truth. You're beautiful, lass." They walked to the door and as they stepped into the hallway, Seamus looked to Parvati, "Do something about her, will you? Get her a new mirror or something?"

"I can do that." Parvati bussed their cheeks once more and then pushed them the rest of the way out. "I'll see you," she looked to Dean, "tomorrow and you," she looked to Seamus, "later this week."

"All right, lass, thanks for dinner."

"Yeah, thanks." The women waved and then Parvati shut the door. The ride down the lift and then back to Seamus's flat was silent. Seamus didn't quite know how to broach the subject of his sexuality, now that Dennis had told everyone. When the train shifted and they bumped shoulders, Dean shrank away from him abruptly and Seamus felt his heart sink.

The silence continued until they were in the flat and, unable to take more, Seamus told Dean he was heading to bed and escaped into his room. After locking the door, he slid out the box of photographs and flipped through them until he could stare at the one where they kissed. It wasn't a sweet kiss nor was it a romantic one. Instead, it was comical and obviously over-exaggerated.

He traced Dean's face and then set the photograph back into the box before burying it where it belonged. It was about time he got over this, dammit.


	8. Chapter 8

  
Author's notes: Header and majority of text of the letter are taken word for word from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone and are not mine.  


* * *

Dean wasn't at all sure how to handle what Dennis had revealed that night at dinner. He hadn't really suspected a thing as to Seamus's sexuality. Not that it mattered. It didn't, not in the least. _Except for the possibilities_ , said a small voice in the back of his head. That was the part that Dean couldn't get over as he watched Seamus and wondered. Now that he knew that Seamus was interested in blokes, Dean couldn't stop thinking about it, wondering what those lips would feel like against his. For a week now, the images had swirled through his head and he couldn't think or concentrate.

He watched the way that Seamus gripped his cup of tea, the way his blunt fingers would hold on to it as if it held the answers to life. He watched the way Seamus watched him and that was where most of the images came from. Every time Seamus bumped into him or their fingers accidentally brushed while passing the salt at dinner or passing too close in the hallway, Dean felt a jolt deep into his gut and he'd jerk away.

There was no way he'd ruin what they had, though. They were mates again and he wasn't going to ruin that by acting on the possibilities that haunted him while he slept. When he woke, he could see that there was an awkwardness between them. Yet again. This waking up to dancing around one another was wearing on him. Entering the kitchen area, he accidentally brushed against Seamus and the warmth flooded his arm and he jerked back.

"That's enough, that's bloody well enough," Seamus said while Dean gaped. "You have a problem with me kissing blokes, then fucking well say so. I'm not going to just be jumping you while you sleep."

"What?" Dean boggled, completely unable to figure out where this ire came from.

"You think I don't get why you're pulling away every time we might just accidentally touch? I get it. I'm gay and you've a problem with that." Seamus turned and glared at Dean though Dean thought he could see that it wasn't anger. It was hurt.

"It's not that at all." Dean reached out and put a hand on Seamus's arm but Seamus shrugged his arm away from the touch. Dean touched Seamus's arm again. "It's not that. I'm just…"

"Just what?" This time, Dean could tell that it was entirely hurt being disguised as anger.

"I'm just absorbing things, is all. I don't care that you're gay, not when…" Dean took a breath, "Not when that'd be a mite hypocritical of me."

"You saying you're gay?" At Seamus's question, Dean nodded. "Then why're you acting like I'm carrying the plague?"

"Just feeling off after dinner the other night. I wasn't really expecting so many people. Thought it'd be four of us." It was as close to the truth as he was willing to get.

"Yeah, sure. I get how it takes a week to recover from it." It was obvious that Seamus didn't believe him but what else could he say? He wasn't going to tell Seamus that he was attracted to him, not when he'd known him for a few weeks and especially not while he was reliant on him. That'd just give the wrong impression; it'd tell Seamus that he was only interested because Dean needed him so much.

"I don't give a flying fuck if you're gay or not. It doesn't make a difference to me. I don't know how else to tell you so that you'll believe me." Dean watched Seamus but his expression didn't change. "Was I ever homophobic before?"

An odd expression flitted across Seamus's face and Dean didn't know what to make of it. Quietly, he answered, "No, you weren't. Things change, though. I know how the Muggles get."

"You want me to strip down and dance around naked? Would that help you believe me?"

"Fine, if it'll get you to shut up, I believe you."

"Fine." Dean went to the pantry and started pulling out bread and jam for breakfast. "Gotta meet with Parvati in a bit so if you want breakfast, you'll need to get out of the way."

The tension stayed as Dean cooked and they ate, neither looking at the other. Dean put his dishes in the sink and then went to shower. When he came out, Seamus was gone but the kitchen was cleaned. He sighed and then made his way to St. Mungo's.

"What happened?" Parvati asked after she shut the door behind them.

"It's nothing, just a bit off is all." Dean tried the same excuse but he could tell that it didn't work on Parvati either.

"You can tell yourself that but I'd like the truth, please." She smiled at him and in that smile was so much sympathy that he gave in.

"We argued a bit this morning. Things've been tense since…"

"Since Dennis broke down, screamed and then left? I can see how that might have been awkward for the both of you." She wrote a couple of notes and then looked up.

"Seamus thinks I'm pissed off that I know he's gay and so he's off. I might've shied away from his touch but it was because…" He wasn't quite ready to give in the whole way.

"Because?"

"Because now I know that he might possibly be open to more and considering I've just met him, well, just met him again, and it's not right or fair. He'll only think that I'm interested because he's my anchor to my past life. I don't want that." Dean raked a hand across his hair and then massaged the back of his neck.

"You should explain that to him. It's better than letting him think that you dislike him due to his sexuality, isn't it?" Parvati smiled at him again and he avoided eye contact.

"I'd rather not, thanks." He breathed in and then changed the subject, "So what sort of exercises do you have for me?"

"This first one's a fairly simple exercise. I'm not expecting great results but Healer Guérir and I agree that this is probably a good starting point. Let's see if we can recover one memory. We'll start at the oldest one." Dean relaxed as Parvati's voice droned the instructions. His mind went blank and, eventually, all he could hear was the monotone intonations. His arms felt like spaghetti and he didn't think he was even capable of raising his head at this moment.

"Dean, imagine a brick wall in front of you, strong bricks, so strong that the wall doesn't look capable of falling." Instantly, a red brick wall sprung up in his mind's eye. "Now, I want you to destroy it, I want you to walk through the rubble and emerge on the other side."

The wall was so thick that he didn't think he was capable of breaking it. Then he remembered that he could do magic and he imagined a fireball hitting it. The wall blew apart, debris falling everywhere and he barely avoided getting nicked by any of it. When he was on the other side, he looked around and the room was grey.

"I want you to picture your parents' flat, just as it was when you were a child." The walls came up and there was the old battered sofa along with the dented table. He knew if he walked down the hallway, he'd see his cramped bedroom that was more a closet than a room. "Are you there?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Now, I want you to picture a letter on the table. It's your Hogwarts letter, do you remember it?" Her voice seemed so far away as he turned and looked at the letter.

_It had a bright red wax dot sealing it and it was addressed to him. This was his very first letter ever. It was even better that it had arrived by an owl, an_ owl _and didn't that beat all? His mates at school wouldn't hardly believe that he'd gotten a letter from an owl. His mum, after she'd gotten over the shock of the owl and letter swooping in, had placed it on the table and called him over._

_Hands shaking with excitement, he finally grabbed the letter. He put it to his nose and breathed in. It smelled like old paper and candles, sort of like his Great Aunt Gertrude's Christmas box. Kerry danced around him in a circle, chanting, "Dean's got a letter, Dean's got a letter" while his mum tried to hush her. He popped the wax seal and then unfolded the parchment._

HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
 _of_ WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY  
HEADMASTER: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE  
 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)_

Dear Mr. Thomas,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,  
 _Deputy Headmistress_

_"Mum? The letter says I've been accepted at a school for witchcraft and wizardry." Dean stared at the letter until his mother snatched it from his hands._

_"What sort of joke is – " She was interrupted by a knock on the door. When she opened it, a squat woman with vibrant eyes and a large grin stood on the other side._

_"Oh good, you got it! Just in time, it looks like. I'm sorry to be late, I had planned on being here just a few minutes beforehand but, alas, the Tube is so very confusing at times, isn't it? I ended up going north when I really wanted south and realised my mistake just minutes after. Thankfully, the next stop wasn't too far and I was able to turn around and make my way here." Dean goggled at the woman as she prattled on. "Oh but where are my manners? My name is Charity Burbage and I am the Muggle Studies Professor at Hogwarts."_

_She thrust out a hand and Dean watched as his mother shook it by rote._

_"You must be Dean Thomas!" She called out excitedly and came over and pumped his hand as well. Her hand was warm around his and he liked how she smelled. She was a bit funny looking and talked even funnier but her friendliness overwhelmed until that was all he could concentrate on._

_"So do you have any questions?" She looked between Dean and his mother. "Of course you have questions, starting with, I'm quite sure, what exactly is Hogwarts and who I am. We should probably sit, this will take awhile."_

_She moved to the sofa and sat down, patting the cushions. Dean could feel the excitement building._

A snap brought him out of the memory and he looked about Parvati's office, surprised to not be in his parents' main room. Then the reality hit him. He'd remembered. He'd remembered getting his letter and if he remembered that, then there might just be every likelihood of actually going to school and Parvati and Seamus and the rest. If he remembered all of that, he could remember what happened to him to make him not remember. The possibilities opened up in front of him.

"You remembered," Parvati said, all seriousness as she scribbled notations in her notebook. As soon as she was finished, a smile split her face and she hurried around the desk and hugged him, her bubbling cheerfulness swamping the professionalism. "You remembered!"

"I can remember a woman barging her way through the door and she wouldn't stop talking. My mum was overwhelmed but we sat down and listened anyway. I can remember how the letter smelled."

"What I want you to do tonight, when you get home, is to practise this technique without me giving you instructions. You think you can do it?"

"You think I'll be able to remember more?"

"I have every hope that you will." She finished her notes and then looked up. "All right, then, practise that technique tonight and you're free to go on your way."

They exchanged a quick hug and Dean, still excited over the lone memory, kissed her on the cheek. The Tube ride was spent smiling and wondering at the possibilities. When he got back to the flat, he let himself in and wasn't at all surprised to see that Seamus wasn't back from work yet. He'd just finished fixing dinner, whistling the entire time, when Seamus walked in.

"What brought on this mood?" Seamus asked as he set his wand and keys on the table.

"I remembered something today!" Dean came out of the kitchen.

"What was it?" Seamus grinned at the news. Dean hugged him tightly, pushing his nose into Seamus's hair to breathe his scent in. Seamus's arms were slow to come up – understandable after the row they'd had that morning – but when they did, it felt glorious.

"Getting my letter and meeting the witch who explained about magic and stuff." They released one another.

"Was there anything else?" Seamus asked and it seemed like he was wanting more, like he was looking for something specific. Dean shook his head and watched as Seamus's face fell for a moment before he forced a smile on his face once more. "That's great, mate. Really great."

"Parvati gave me something to try every night. Going to work on it and see if I can remember anything else." Dean went back into the kitchen, his excitement partially dulled.

"That's good, told you she was the best. You need me to do anything for it?"

"Naw, just have to do some breathing things and then visualise stuff." Dean dished out the food and then brought it over to the table. "That and eat dinner."

Once dinner was over, Seamus retreated to his bedroom and left Dean alone to do the exercise. After settling into one of the chairs, Dean breathed in deep and then consciously relaxed his muscles. He wasn't nearly as relaxed as he'd been in Parvati's office. Whether that was due to not having her there guiding him, the tension that had continued to erupt at dinner or the fact that he knew Seamus was just in the other room, Dean wasn't sure.

In the end, all he got was a brief vision – pale hands ghosting down his bare chest while Seamus looked up, a teasing, cocky expression on his face as he licked Dean's stomach – and he was quite sure that it wasn't a memory.

~~**~~

Seamus couldn't believe that Dean had been staying at his flat for a week, let alone almost a month. It had seemed so much longer and, at the same time, so much shorter. Dean had stopped shying away from him at every touch, but the hurt from that still twisted up Seamus's gut because there were times that Dean still jumped like a scalded cat. He'd barely resisted looking at the proof that once, years ago, Dean hadn't just accepted his touch but had sought it out. He had to get over this, had to learn to accept what was and not what had been or could be.

The lift dinged and then the doors opened. Seamus's nerves started as he walked down the hall. When he reached the door to her office, he couldn't make himself enter. Instead, he leaned in the doorway as he centred himself. He really hoped that she didn't want to have their talk inside. Slipping inside the office for a spot of privacy was one thing. Being in an office with a Healer that wanted to analyse him was another. It reminded him too much of the way he'd been forced into counselling by Shacklebolt after Dean. Then, it'd been an old man with more hair in his nose than he had on the top of his head. The perverted man had wanted to hear all the details of Seamus's relationship. After a single session, Seamus concluded that the man only wanted to hear the details because he got some sort of sick pleasure out of them.

Of course, he'd still had to go and sit there, listening to the man natter on about sublimated needs and Seamus's mother, as if one equalled the other. After a week of the daily sessions, he'd been cleared to head back into the field. Any longer and Seamus was certain that he would've killed the man.

This was Parvati, though. Seamus trusted her more than almost anyone else in the world. She'd put him back together once and now it looked like she'd get the privilege of repeating it. He knocked on the doorjamb.

"You ready?" he asked as she looked up from her notes. The studiousness of her demeanour was so very different from her time at Hogwarts. All she needed was a pair of glasses and her image of professional and serious healer would be complete. That and to stop using the bright pink quill that currently rested in her hand.

"Give me a minute, I just need to finish updating this file." She gave him a smile and then went back to her writing.

Seamus sat on one of the chairs and leaned back, not completely comfortable. The office and his purpose for being here combined into one big stomach-churning mess. The chairs were stuffed too full, the décor too feminine and the artwork too personal. A portrait Dean had done of Padma and Parvati hung over Parvati's desk, just above her head. As soon as he recognised the style, he turned away from it and shifted in the chair. He cracked his knuckles and then laced his fingers behind his head. His right leg crossed over the left and then the left crossed over the right. Finally, he kicked out his legs and crossed his ankles. Just as he was about to cross them the other way, Parvati closed the file and placed it in the cabinet behind her desk.

"I'm done, you can stop shifting now."

"Was I distracting you? Sorry."

"It's fine. You have a preference of where to eat?" She stood and grabbed her sweater from the rack in the corner.

"We're not doing this here?" Seamus stood and then, together, they walked out of the office. His stomach immediately released. This was much more like talking to a friend and not a Healer.

"And have you moving around the entire time? If I'm going to have to put up with that, I might as well get something to eat out of it. Your treat, by the way," She said archly and then ruined it by laughing.

"Yeah, fine, I don't mind buying, of course. I'm just the poor Ministry peon and you're the high ranking Healer specialist." He tried for his best long-suffering tone as he pressed the button to summon the lift.

"Oh, please, Seamus. You're buying because you're the man and I'm the woman. Nothing more than that or has it been too long since you've been on a date with a girl?"

"Last time was with you, if I'm remembering correctly. At the end of the night, you turned me down for a kiss. Didn't invite me in or anything." The ride down was short and before Seamus could finish, they were at the bottom. The entry was crowded and their conversation remained light and teasing as they wandered through the crowd.

"You were pissed out of your skull. Of course I didn't want you slobbering on me." She paused and then tapped her cheek. "You can kiss me now, if you'd like."

Instead of kissing, he licked her and then took off across the lobby. She screamed and then gave chase. She caught up to him outside of a sandwich shop.

"I cannot believe that you made me run in heels, Seamus Finnigan. Heels! Do you know how much these cost me? You are definitely buying lunch plus a spot of dessert and coffee." She glared at him and then gestured towards the door. "Well? Be a gentleman or I'll have to tell your mum how you treat a lady."

"Oi! No calling the mother! That's a low blow no matter how expensive the shoes." Seamus opened the door with a flourish and then bowed low. Once they were inside, they were quick to order and then picked a booth towards the back of the shop.

"Shall I pick at you or do you want to tell me what's bothering you?" Parvati asked as they leaned in together while waiting for the food to arrive.

"Dean," Seamus said. Parvati rolled her eyes at him and he smiled sadly. "It just all goes back to him, doesn't it? Past four years of my life, I've been obsessing over him. The years before that, as well, truth be known. It's been Dean, not my job, not my personal life, not my friends. Just Dean. I was just starting to get over it and then he's back."

"Were you?" Parvati looked at him and he could tell that she didn't believe him. Then again, he didn't believe himself.

"No, I wasn't. It's all these ups and downs. It's hard because I expect him to react a certain way and he does another." Seamus searched for something that wouldn't sound ridiculous. "He folds everything. He cooks."

"And that bothers you?"

"Dean never cooked. Most we did was order takeaway. Hell, he folds his pants, Parvati! Who in their right mind folds their pants?" Parvati gave a small laugh and he rolled his eyes at himself. He knew that it sounded ridiculous but they were small changes that contributed to the big one. "Can't tell you how many times one of our mams would stop by and clean as we were rubbish at it. Now he glares at me if I don't clean the dishes straight away."

"People change, Seamus, and these changes? They could've happened regardless." She wasn't seeing what he meant so he bit back his pride.

"He's no' happy. He's not and I don't like seeing it, let alone making him feel it." Seamus looked around the room as he admitted what was truly bothering him. "And 'm no' happy either. Thought I would be when we woke up that first morning and I saw him out there. Christ, I thought we'd just fall back into our patterns and habits. I mean, I knew that he didn't remember, knew it up here," He gestured towards his head. "but I also figured one spell and he'd be better and there we'd _be_."

"You blame him, don't you?" Seamus looked up, shocked. "You blame him for leaving you and not coming back, for not remembering you or what you had. You blame him for hurting you."

Seamus shook his head in protest, "It's not that at all! It's not his fault that I'm walking around like a geebag mooning after him. It's not."

"Blaming him is normal." Seamus started to protest again but Parvati held up her hand. "It's normal and allowed. Now, though, it's time to start dealing with that."

"How'm I supposed to do that? He won't even talk to me or touch me. Hell, he shies away and then acts like that's not what he's doing." Seamus threw his hands up into the air. They both stopped talking as one of the employees dropped off their meals. When the girl left, Seamus continued, "Breakfast the other morning? I barely brushed him and he nearly jumped to the other side of the room."

Parvati made a noise that could've said 'that's too bad' or 'I understand' or even 'you're overreacting' and Seamus didn't know which, so he picked up his sandwich and took an overly-large bite. He chewed, vicious angry bites, as he contemplated the entire situation.

"It's awkward for both of you. Allowances have to be made on both your parts. He might not be used to being touched as much as you like to touch. Perhaps he's uncomfortable with the discussions of sexuality." Parvati started eating, taking much smaller bites than Seamus.

"He tell you that? That he's uncomfortable with me being gay?" Seamus glared at his sandwich as if it were the reason for his foul mood before ripping the next section off.

"You know I can't answer that. What did he say to you?"

"He said that it'd be a bit hypocritical of him but I couldn't tell if he was just having me on."

"Why wouldn't you believe him?"

"Because he's lied to me for the past four years!" Seamus yelled and then abruptly stilled, sandwich forgotten in his hands. He did blame Dean for leaving and forgetting. Anger gone in the midst of shocked upset, his voice was small as he said, "But he hasn't. I know he hasn't."

"Up here," Parvati tapped her head. Her hand moved to her heart, "but not here."

Seamus looked down at his plate. Parvati's hand gripped his and squeezed.

"It's going to take time and you're going to have to talk to him. I'm sure he's just as lost and confused if not more so. Remember, you have the rest of us and know you can rely on us, but he doesn't have anyone. Sit down, talk it out. Keep talking it out and when you think you're done, talk once more."

"How could anyone do something this awful? Didn't anyone think of how much they'd be hurting more than just the one person?" Seamus's anger came back, blocking the shame of blaming Dean for what was done to him. "Who 'm I kidding? They didn't fucking care. If I could get my hands on them, I'd fucking kill 'em. Swear on all that's holy, I'd fucking wring their necks with me bare hands."

"Give Harry, Ron and Michael some time to work on their end. It's only been a couple of days." Seamus nodded and Parvati squeezed his hand again. When he looked up, he saw her staring at him. "Talk to him."

"I can't. Not right now."

"All right, it's your decision," she said and he could hear the disappointment in her voice.

"Heard from Dennis lately?" Seamus changed the subject abruptly.

"No, nothing. He's not answering his mobile. I'm a bit worried over him."

"I'll stop at his flat and check on him. It's sort of on the way to the Ministry, anyway."

"Thanks, I'd appreciate it." She chewed and then looked thoughtful, "You think I was harsh with him?"

"Nay, lass, it's what he needed, a kick in the arse. If it can't be Colin coming back from the dead, then it might as well be you planting a boot." Parvati's face fell. He tried to tease her, "'M thinking I'm not the only one with unresolved grief issues, am I?"

"We were just friends, that's all." Parvati wouldn't look at Seamus so it was his turn to grab her arm and give it a squeeze.

"We're both good at lying to ourselves, aren't we?" She looked up and he saw the tears in her eyes. "I'll try to find him. I know his routines better'n most, after all."

"Thanks."

"No need to thank me. Partly my fault he ran off the way he did."

"We need to stop taking on blame for things that are beyond our control," she said sadly. He didn't know how to respond to that so he simply let it go. They finished their food in silence and then, after walking to St. Mungo's, Seamus bussed Parvati's cheek in goodbye.

He walked down the alley and, when no one was around, he Apparated to behind Dennis's flat. A knock on the door didn't even yield a projectile thrown at it. Another knock and more silence. Another and still more silence. A quick look one way and then the other and Seamus pulled out his wand. " _Alohamora_ ," he whispered and the door opened.

He slowly pushed the door the rest of the way open only to find that the flat was completely unoccupied. He searched it, just in case, but only found dust and scattered clothing. It looked like he was planning on being back. His next stop was the pub. The booth was empty and, after questioning the barman, it seemed that the last time Dennis had been here was a few days ago when he mentioned that he would be leaving town. Visiting family, according to the waitress.

Seamus headed back to work and made his way to the Owlery where he sent off a few owls to those that might possibly know where Dennis might be. One went to Harry, asking him to look into it and asking for an update on the investigation of what had happened to Dean. Another went to Dennis's parents while a third went to Dennis himself. He didn't work much, merely sorted a few things on his desk while he waited for some sort of response.


	9. Chapter 9

As weeks turned into months, Seamus found himself sliding further and further into love with the new Dean. The neatness, something the old incarnation had never bothered with, was endearing in its own way as Dean picked up after Seamus. He found himself picking up his own clothes and shoes to avoid upsetting Dean.

The cooking was another new habit that Seamus adored. Dean could cook, his meals were always creative and it was nice to come back to the flat and find a hot meal. As much as Seamus wanted to tease Dean about how he was a good little wife, he didn't want to risk losing those meals and the clean laundry, so he wisely shut his mouth and kept his foot from it.

It was the little things that really pushed Seamus over the edge. The melding of old and new habits, like the way Dean chewed his lip when he was doing one of the exercises Parvati gave him or the way he'd tap a pen against his leg, was intriguing. Seamus couldn't resist the lure of spending time listening to the progress of the testing and the different treatments that they were trying at St. Mungo's.

This wasn't to say that there weren't problems, as there were. Dean still hadn't spoken to his mum and he wasn't aware that Seamus was leaving voicemails with updates. Dennis was still missing and unresponsive. It was a bit worrisome but Parvati counselled him not to worry overly much just yet. Perhaps with distance, Dennis wouldn't rely on alcohol and Seamus to keep him steady and would find his own anchor.

His sessions with Parvati were a blessing, but Seamus hadn't screwed up the courage to tell Dean about them just yet. He didn't need to know that Seamus was talking to Parvati about his own problems.

So far, he'd been able to resist most of it. The hand reaching out to touch as Dean walked past to take a spot at the end of the couch, feet stretching out to intertwine their toes while they watched telly, nose aching to burrow into the crook of Dean's neck to inhale; none of it happened through sheer force of will. Seamus might just be falling in love with the new Dean but he'd, so far, been able to wait until he heard 'Seem' trip off Dean's lips.

The one thing that he hadn't been able to resist was the watching. In the dead of the night, when his own bed was too big and too empty, he'd curl around a pillow until he couldn't resist any longer. Then, he'd slip out into the main room and watched Dean sleep. He'd catalogue the way Dean would curl on his side with a hand cupping his cheek under the weight of his head, the way he'd snuffle in his sleep, the slightly mutterings. In sleep, Dean was achingly familiar.

~~**~~

After sending off yet another round of owls to try to find out what had happened to Dennis, Seamus concentrated on work yet again. There was plenty to do and Seamus soon lost himself in the details. For once, he kept his mind off of what Dean might be doing with Parvati and the rest of the healers at St. Mungo's.

Nothing had arrived in response to his owls by quitting time, so he made his way home. Opening the door, he stopped in the doorway, shocked into immobility by the sight that greeted him. Dean sat on the floor with the box of photographs and sketches spread out in front of him. So many emotions flooded Seamus's system that he couldn't think of how to react at all. He only stared as Dean thumbed a photograph and then looked up at Seamus.

"We weren't just best mates, were we?" Dean asked as Seamus continued to stand in the doorway. Seamus's steps stuttered before moving forward again as if the question wasn't asking exactly what it was.

"Aye, we were partners as well. You watched my back and I watched yours." Seamus kept thinking _not now, please not now_.

"We were more, don't lie to me. We were _more_." Dean sounded angry but Seamus needed to protect himself and the tenuous relationship they had. He waved one of the letters Seamus had written to Dean's mam in the air. "Got your words here. I'd like you to give me them now, too."

"Didn't need to be more than mates. That's everything."

"Christ, Seamus, just answer the question! I'm asking for the truth here. You want to treat me like my mum does, protect me from the past that I bloody well deserve to know, then I'm leaving." Dean stood and then stalked towards the sofa and his pile of clothing and started grabbing at it to pack.

Seamus hurried over and reached out a hand, stilling his motions. He couldn't decide what he was going to say, how he was going to react. "Don't go, please. Please, just, don't go."

"Then tell me the truth." When Dean looked at Seamus as he spoke, Seamus felt the hesitancy melt. He couldn't resist the demand for validation, history and memory. He couldn't lie to Dean and he couldn't withhold the truth.

"When you kissed me, that first time, I thought 'Christ but here it is then'. It wasn't a really good kiss. I like to think that we were too nervous or wanted it too much, but it was probably because we were fourteen and drunk on spiked punch." Seamus gave a quick, nervous laugh as he let go of Dean to fiddle with a pillow. Dean didn't respond but he also didn't continue packing. Seamus refused to look at him. "I expect that makes you nervous staying here. Honestly, I hadn't planned on telling you any of this, much as Parvati urged me to. I should've told you from the beginning. In my defence, I've only just got you back and friendship is enough, more than. I don't really need the rest, not if we can still be friends. That's what we agreed to when the kiss was over."

Seamus played with a thread. Dean still hadn't said anything yet but that was all right. Now that the floodgates had opened, Seamus found that he didn't want to stop the tide of confession. "It just happened so gradually, that whole falling in love thing. Didn't even know I loved you until you were flirting with Lavender and I walked in on the two of you. God, the jealousy was so strong. I knew you were meant for me and you, you looked up and I could tell that you didn't understand what was happening, either. I didn't talk to you for days, I was so hurt and confused. Then you yanked me into a closet when we were in training and you hit me. Then you kissed me. It was good, so fucking good, that I wondered if it was too good to be true.

"Not saying that it was all sunshine and roses and that there weren't times that we didn't fight. We fought. A lot. I was jealous a lot and you didn't take kindly to that. Both of us were so stubborn in our own ways. But we were good together, really good. Hell, I spent a year after you… went away… thinking we were perfect but we weren't." Seamus stopped talking as he remembered the first kiss, the second kiss and the nervous glances and touches that followed both. He remembered the fights and the making up, the sleeping alone because of his own stubbornness and the sometimes tumultuous reunions. Dean hadn't said anything yet but that was all right; Seamus had other things he wanted to share now that the memories were spread out around them.

"Look, if you're wanting to go, I'd understand it but I can assure you that I'm happy enough to have you alive and my mate again, so I won't be attacking you or any of that. You've a safe place to stay here, if you're wanting to still stay. I don't need more than you as a mate."

"And if I want more?" Dean asked after a pregnant pause.

"Sorry, what?" Seamus looked up and boggled. Surely he hadn't heard what he'd thought he'd heard.

"What if I want more than you as a mate? What if I want what we had before?" Too busy grabbing a photograph of the pair of them snogging at a party when they'd thought no one looking, Dean missed the shocked expression on Seamus's face.

This was the epitome of what Seamus had dreamed and wanted. This was the answer to his prayers, to have Dean back with him: to be able to touch and kiss and love. Seamus wanted to answer 'yes' but then reality caught up with him. The Dean standing in front of him wasn't _his_ Dean, the one he'd fallen in love with. This Dean tapped his spoon on the rim of his cup, hummed in the shower and folded his clothing neatly. This Dean was shy and slow to laugh around new people.

Seamus amazed himself by answering, "I want what we had before too, but we can't get it back, can we? It's gone just as much as your memories are. We've known each other this time for what? A month or so? That's not time enough to be making this sort of decision, much as I want it."

Dean started to turn away and Seamus could see the hurt. He reached out and grabbed Dean's arm and tugged him back around.

"Look, I won't lie. I want you, never fucking stopped, but," his hand raked through his hair before falling to his side, "Christ, but I want it so bad that I can taste it, but I also want it good and lasting and if we do something now, I'll regret it. I'll be taking advantage and… and right now, you don't know who you were so you can't know what we had, these photos or no. I'm making a muck of this, but I'm trying to do the right thing. Once you get your memories back…well, we'll talk then. We were mates before and I'd rather have that than nothing at all."

Dean didn't say a word. Seamus played with his collar and then straightened his shirt. The silence stretched on as they both stood a bit too close and looked anywhere but at each other.

"All right," Dean whispered.

"All right which one?"

"All right, you're right. It's too soon and I don't want to mess up where we're at now." Dean looked at Seamus and his face split into a teasing expression. "Just don't be coming out here in the middle of the night asking for favours."

"As if I'd do that. You drool, mate, ruin all my best sheets with the rivers that come out of that mouth." Seamus tried to tease back and when they laughed, it was made up of more relief than happiness.

"Will you tell me the stories behind some of these?" Dean gestured towards the photographs. "We look happy."

Seamus sat on the floor and grabbed a photograph. In it, Ron and Harry played Wizard Chess while Dean and Seamus played a rousing game of Exploding Snap to the side. Ron turned and yelled as the cards exploded just behind him. The image repeated and Seamus laughed at Ron's expression. They were no older than thirteen and they'd thought the world of themselves.

"This one? Ron hexed you so that you'd eat slugs just after it was taken. Took Madam Pomfrey hours to purge your system and, until then, you kept vomiting them up. It was completely foul." Seamus laughed, this time completely genuine, as he relived the memory.

"What're we playing?" Dean sat next to him, leaning over his shoulder to look at the photograph. Seamus breathed him in, holding the unique scent for as long as he could.

"Exploding Snap, we played it all the time. I think I still have a deck somewhere. Want me to teach you?"

"Yeah, that'd be fun."

The evening passed quickly as the cards exploded back and forth. Seamus couldn't remember a day in over four years that he'd laughed as much as he did in those hours with Dean. When he went to bed, he got the first full night's rest since Dean had disappeared.

~~**~~

Dean fiddled with the outside seam of his denims as he slouched in a chair in Parvati's office. The more they talked, the more nervous he got. They'd been working on the visualisations with nothing other than random images coming up. He could remember sitting in class but not the spells. He could remember eating in the Great Hall but not whom he sat with. It seemed like anything relating directly to magic, he couldn't remember. Whenever they tried to force their way through, he was thrust out of the visualisation and left bemused and disappointed.

"Dean, I have to be honest. I don't think we're going to get anywhere with this. We can recover some incomplete memories but I don't think that's enough, do you?" Parvati looked up from her notes.

"I'd like to keep trying. I want my memories back."

"Healer Guérir said that there's an experimental procedure." Her voice trailed off as she looked over his shoulder while she nibbled the end of her bright pink quill.

"Yeah?" Dean waited for Parvati to reveal whatever it was that was holding her back and making her hesitate.

"I'd rather he explain it to you."

"Is it dangerous or something?" Dean could feel the nerves start once more. He just wanted to know what had happened to him, how to fix it and who he was.

"We'll meet tomorrow about it, if you're interested." Parvati tapped her quill as she spoke. Dean didn't want to wait until tomorrow to go over this. He wanted to do it _now_ , especially after Seamus saying that they'd wait until he remembered who he was.

"Can't we meet sooner? Say this afternoon? Or even now?"

"Dean, you haven't remembered for how many years? Another day isn't asking too much, is it?"

"Yes, it damn well does ask too much!" He would be embarrassed about his temper if it weren't for the fact that he was close enough to regaining himself that he could feel it churning just underneath the surface.

"What happened last night?" She asked and his tirade halted as he stumbled over the change of subject.

"You that perceptive?" He asked and she nodded. "Seamus and I talked."

"Oh? Go on," she encouraged as she arched a brow.

"Isn't there anything you could tell me about us?" The way he said 'us' was as so much more than friends and he could see that Parvati knew that though he tried for a tone that wouldn't betray how much he wanted to remember just what they'd been. After the talk of last night, he was even more curious. He'd dated in the years since he'd lost his memory, not often but he'd had the occasional date. There'd been Lisa from Sales and Mark from the pick-up football games. Instead of attraction, he'd felt more like he was experimenting, trying to figure out who he was. His sister, Farrah, had made a comment about his sexuality that had quickly been hushed by his parents. He'd suspected he had dated men before but the comment had confirmed it.

Now he wondered if, perhaps, the reason he hadn't been happy with Lisa or Mark was because he'd known, deep deep inside, that he'd had Seamus and had wanted him back. It was a silly flight of fancy and the reason he really hadn't been happy was because he didn't know who he was or who he'd been with. He knew it, but the fancy appealed to him in ways the truth hadn't. He'd refused to commit to anyone just in case there had been someone else.

"Seamus talked to you, then? That's good, very good," she smiled as she spoke. She wrote a few things in her notes. "I'd prefer that you recover the memories on your own, however."

"We had a bit of a talk after he got home last night. Things were tense after he walked in to see me looking through this box of photographs and sketches he had, but then we talked." Dean smiled as he thought about the way they'd played Exploding Snap until the early hours of the morning, barely breaking for snacks and beer.

"I know that you're both feeling your way here, but I'm still going to ask that you be careful of him. If you find that you can't love him, tell him sooner rather than later." She wrote a few more things down in her notes, not looking at him at all.

"I told him that I wanted what we had had." Dean felt defensive though he knew he shouldn't. Parvati was only looking out for Seamus.

"Seamus is fragile. He'll pretend that he isn't but he's just as fragile as Dennis." She finally looked up and her smile was poignant.

"I know, yeah? I know," he repeated. They stared at one another for a moment and then she nodded.

"What else did you talk about?"

"He taught me how to play Exploding Snap. I know it's a kid's game but, man, that game is cool. I think I ended up winning the evening but we weren't really keeping score."

"Did you remember playing it before or was it entirely new to you?"

"New," he said while she wrote. "Nothing came back."

"That's what I suspected. It's whatever they did to you. Anything relating to magic directly is hidden and we can't access it." She sighed and then held up a hand, as if to ward off what he'd been about to say. "I'll send a message to Healer Guérir and see if he can meet later this afternoon. It's the best I can do."

"Thanks, Parvati." He watched as she wrote something and then folded it up. After she tapped it with her wand, it flew off and he barely opened the door in time for it to wing its way down the hall.

"While we wait for a response, would you like to show me your skills at Exploding Snap?" She grinned as she pulled out a deck. "It's been years since I've played."


	10. Chapter 10

Seamus paced outside of Harry and Ron's office. The owl had come while he was authorising the man-power to survey a possible area for the Quidditch World Cup. They'd need to work with the Muggle Liaison Office. They'd also need to see about enlarging the seating capacity in the stadium. If they were going to have the World Cup there, they'd need to possibly double the size and then there were the accommodations. He had no idea how they would fit everyone in the area surrounding the stadium, though there was that field and if they could get someone from… right, he was here to talk to Harry and Ron if they'd ever bloody well open their door.

He banged on the door once more and, of course, there was no answer. He didn't miss being an Auror. At first, righteous ire had fuelled him in a quest for justice as they'd hunted down Death Eaters but with all of them caught, dead or incapacitated, the work wasn't nearly as exciting as it had been. After spending so much time with Quidditch, he realized that being an Auror wasn't his destiny, regardless of whether Dean had lived or died.

Kingsley Shacklebolt turned the corner and grinned when he saw Seamus. "Coming back into our ranks, are you?"

When Shacklebolt held out his hand, Seamus shook it. "No, sir, can't say that I am. Just here to meet with Harry and Ron about something. You seen 'em?"

"They're out in the field. They told me about Thomas. Good to hear, though I'm curious if any of the other disappearances might be related to this. I've asked for the cooperation of the Obliviators. We'll get to the bottom of this, don't you worry." Shacklebolt started walking and Seamus strode along beside him. "How's Thomas doing?"

"He's well enough. Can't remember much, but he seems to be coping with it all right." It wasn't a complete lie. "Working with Healer Patil and some French guy from St. Marie's."

"Good to hear. Bad time for the department, losing the two of you the way we did." They reached the lifts.

"Don't think I would've lasted anyway." Seamus pressed the button to go up while Shacklebolt pressed the one to go down.

"Perhaps it's a good thing things happened the way they did, then."

"Aye," Seamus said then went silent. There wasn't much else he could say in response. Thankfully, the lift arrived and when the door opened, Harry and Ron spilled out.

"News to report?" Shacklebolt asked.

"We'll need to clear a visit to Azkaban but we think so. We went back to the house where Dean fell but nothing new. We're going to talk to Lestrange, with your permission, of course," Harry said as they started walking back the way they came. "Seamus? Want to come along? Again, with permission, of course."

The idea was tempting, far too tempting. He wanted to, bad enough that he could taste it. The reports and requests for clearance could wait. Nodding, he smiled with far more teeth than necessary, "Course I do."

"You'd have to be an Auror and you just said you weren't made for it," Kingsley interrupted.

"Sir, with all due respect, I think this is just my sort of thing."

Shacklebolt held out a hand and shook Seamus's. "Welcome back. You three are cleared for Azkaban, let me just write up the authorisation for temporary reinstatement and a pass."

They followed down the hall to Shacklebolt's office and then watched as he signed the form with a flourish. The three nodded and then made their way through the Ministry to the Floo network connections. They had to have the Floo opened to get them to Azkaban but with Shacklebolt's form, they encountered no issues.

A guard greeted them on the other side, hand outstretched for the chit. "Who're you needing?"

"Lestrange, Rodolphus and Yaxley, Lysander." Harry handed over the slip and then they waited while the guard verified the signatures.

"Interrogation Room Twelve's free. I'll have Lestrange escorted there. Can only meet with 'em one at a time. Them's the rules." The guard summoned another guard.

Harry, Ron and Seamus walked through Azkaban until they reached the interrogation room. Chills raced up and down Seamus's spine as he walked through. The place was morbid and depressing enough now that he didn't want to think about what it would've been like to be imprisoned back when the Ministry used Dementors. Those things had starred in many a nightmare through Seamus's Hogwarts years and beyond. They were foul beasts and he was quite pleased that the Ministry had banished them to a remote preserve off in the mountains of Greenland.

Ron opened the door and the three slipped inside. It was a barren room, a depressing sombre grey that did nothing to brighten anyone's mood. Nerves trickled in as they waited and Seamus could barely resist pacing. He'd not been on official business since… he wracked his memory, unable to remember the last capture. It was either Carrow or Jugson. Or was it Selwynn? After he'd gotten Lestrange and Yaxley, they'd blurred as he'd collapsed mentally.

His hands shook as he fingered his wand. He could use a drink, something to steady his nerves. For a moment, he forgot that Dennis was missing and wondered if, perhaps, Dennis would want to meet him. Then he remembered and turned towards the other two in the room, "Either of you hear from Dennis lately?"

"No, can't say that I have," Ron said as he looked up from his contemplations of the cheap metal chairs.

"Tried to owl him after you asked me about him but nothing came back," Harry said as he paced across the back of the room.

"Parvati's worried over him. He's not returning any owls, not in any of his old haunts and his flat's empty." Seamus's hands turned sweaty on his wand as he heard movement outside the door.

"We'll see what we can find when we get back, let you know what's going on." The doors opened and they watched as Rodolphus Lestrange ambled in. Unlike the last time Seamus had seen him, he was particularly haggard looking. His eyes sunk deep into his skull and swum in a sea of bruised flesh. He was painfully skinny but there was still a semblance of pride as he stood straighter after entering.

"I've nothing further to share with any of you." He glared at them while they waited for the guard to leave.

"Close the door. We'll let you know when we're done," Harry ordered and the guard, after a respectful nod, left the room.

"Dean Thomas," Harry said and they waited for a response.

"Yes?" Rodolphus hobbled to one of the chairs. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"Tall, black, Auror. You were at the scene when he was taken." Ron rattled off details and Seamus swore he saw a spark of recognition flit across Lestrange's face.

"Was I? So many Mudbloods, so little time." At Lestrange's flippancy, red rage surged over Seamus and he was out of his chair before he knew it. Gripping Lestrange's prison uniform, he shook the man.

"You'll fucking well keep a respectful tone, y'ken?" Hands touched his shoulders but Seamus shrugged them off.

"You'll need to control your whelp." Lestrange directed his command towards the person behind Seamus.

"He's his own man. I'd recommend you answer the questions rather than continue to bait him."

Seamus pulled him closer and hissed, low and threatening, in his face, "You'll answer the questions or I shan't be held accountable for me actions. Everyone already knows I'm mental. Might as well get something out of it. Now, what the fuck did you do to Dean Thomas?"

Lestrange laughed, tossing his head back while the cruel mirthless sounds rang out and echoed in the room. Seamus shoved him backwards, toppling the chair. Before Lestrange had a moment to absorb his fall, Seamus sat on top of him and started hitting him, over and over, across the face and his ears. He stopped laughing as he was beaten and it was Seamus's turn to start laughing. "You fucking asshole, you've not a clue what you've done. Not a fucking clue at all! I'll fucking well kill you!"

"Seamus, let him go." Seamus barely heard Harry but he felt the hand on his shoulder and he only shrugged it off. "Let him go. We'll come back with Veritaserum. We'll get authorisation and we'll come back with it. Come on, he's not even awake anymore. This isn't going to help Dean."

The hand gripped his shoulder tighter and Seamus came back to himself and saw that Lestrange was bloody and unconscious. His hands hurt almost as much as his heart did. They throbbed with his pulse. Ron tapped the bruised knuckles with his wand and Seamus felt marginally better.

"Let's get out of here, the guards can clean him up," Ron said as he kicked Lestrange's arm as it lay limp. He then went to the door and yelled out, "Oi! We got a clean up in here!"

Ron entered just before the guard tottered in. With a smirk, the man flicked his wand and levitated Lestrange before taking him back towards his cell. No one said a word to any of them as they walked through the prison and then through the Floo.

"I'm really not cut out for this. I've probably just got all of us in trouble." Seamus hung his head. "Heaps of trouble."

"We'll talk to Shacklebolt, we'll work it out, come on." Harry waved his hand towards the lifts.

~~**~~

"It's a highly experimental procedure. It's been attempted one time previously," Healer Guérir launched into his explanation. "The results were highly promising. However, in that case, unlike yours, we knew exactly what caused the damage and we were able to repair it. Without a detailed knowledge of what happened to you, I'm not at all certain that this procedure would assist. In point of fact, I think that the procedure would hinder the possible recovery through other means."

Dean sat in the chair, stunned. He'd had high hopes, even if it were dangerous, that he'd get his memories back just from Parvati's belief in it. "So you're saying that I have to find out who did this to me and how before the procedure could work and even then, it might not work?"

"Exactly. I cannot guarantee details, but we," he gestured towards Parvati, "have high hopes that once we know what happened, we will be able to reverse it."

"What would you do?"

The man steepled his fingers under his chin as he started to explain. "We would use a container similar to a Pensieve, that is, a memory collector. All of your memories would be pulled out and the damaged bits would be repaired through case-specific spells. For example, on an _Obliviate_ , the reversal can possibly be fairly straight forward. More complicated spells, however, require different spells. This could, possibly, take quite some time but hopefully, when your memories are restored to your mind, you would have all of them back and intact."

"You mean, you'd pull out all my memories and then put them back in? How would you do that?" Dean boggled at the mere idea.

"Oh, that's quite right, I'd forgotten that you were Muggle. Let me show you, come along," Healer Guérir said as he stood and then they all walked down the hallway to the room at the end where a Pensieve rested. It was a giant bowl made of stone and the liquid in it shimmered. Dean stopped in his tracks as he watched Healer Guérir put his wand to his head and pull out a silvery, almost translucent, string and then put it into the liquid. "Come and see, my boy. Come and see."

Dean leaned in and immediately, he was sucked in to the memory. In it, Dean sat on a chair within Parvati's office and tapped his hands on his knees. He could see the way that the room looked, saw the artwork and the rug underneath the desk. The oddest bit was watching himself jitter when he hadn't even been aware that he'd been moving. Parvati, Healer Guérir and himself got up and Dean walked along behind until they arrived in the room with the Pensieve. There, the memory ended and Dean was thrown back out.

"Do you see?" Healer Guérir tapped his wand on the liquid and then put the memory back into his mind.

"So this, err, _Obliviate_ , it doesn't get rid of the memories? It just traps them so you can't pull them out?" Dean was completely stunned by the revelation. Just when he thought he'd got on to the magical world, something new happened to completely overwhelm him and prove just how wrong he'd been.

"In theory, you are correct though, when cast improperly, it destroys the memories instead. There is one case where a former professor at Hogwarts completely destroyed all of his memories when his spell backfired on him. Quite a fascinating case study, in all actuality. There are multiple memory spells, however, not just _Obliviate_. Mnemone Radford was brilliant at developing memory charms and was, in fact, the one who developed many of those that are currently in usage. Absolutely brilliant things, memories. Why, you can – "

"I'm quite sure that Dean doesn't need to hear about all of these other cases, Healer Guérir," Parvati interrupted as she held on to Dean's arm. She had to have sensed the way that he'd slowly been tensing up and worrying over the idea that whatever they'd done to him was permanent.

He'd accepted the permanency while he'd not known a thing about the magical world but now that he was here, he'd been expecting a miracle. That there wasn't one right away disappointed him. There were too many things he'd already discovered about himself that he wanted to know it all. What had he done as an Auror? What sort of cases? What had happened during the War that Seamus still wouldn't talk about it? Why did his mum hate magic so much that she and the family would keep what had happened to him such a secret? What did Seamus taste like and just how drunk had either of them been when they'd kissed the first time?

While he'd been thinking of all the things he wanted to remember, Healer Guérir and Parvati had started walking towards the door. Dean stared at the Pensieve, wondering if, perhaps, someone could pull a memory from his head and he'd know something of his past that he needed to know.

"Thank you, Healer, we'll be in touch about the procedure. The Aurors are looking into what happened to Dean so hopefully we'll have results soon." Parvati walked with the healer into the hallway and then came back, alone.

"I know I said that I'd rather you recover the memories on your own but I have one for you," Parvati held up a hand and then continued, "it's fairly small but I thought you might enjoy it."

The silvery strand pulled away from her head on the tip of her wand and then disappeared into the liquid. When they both leaned in together, Dean found himself sucked in to a large room with multi-coloured hammocks suspended from the ceiling. There were tapestries hanging all over the place while bookcases and brooms filled in the empty spaces. As they watched, Harry entered with Neville, Hermione and Ron. Everyone in the room ran to greet them while babbling excitedly. Dean could see Seamus – bruised and battered though he was, he was still recognisable to Dean – and then he watched as Luna entered the room, followed by Dean himself. Seamus, face joyous, yelled and then ran to embrace the Dean in the memory. They looked so happy, even then, that Dean wondered if perhaps they hadn't been quite as drunk as Seamus had said they were for that first kiss.

When Dean and Seamus joined the rest of the group, Seamus kept reaching out a hand, touching the back of Dean's hand, his arm, his waist, his hair. Dean touched almost as often, reaching out and squeezing Seamus's hand and arm before slinging an arm round Seamus's shoulders. They really had been just as tactile back then as he'd expected. Just as Seamus burst out, "You haven't got a _wand_ "?, the memory ended and Dean was pulled back into the present.

"Thanks," Dean said before hugging Parvati. "Thanks for that."

"Of course, Dean." She held on to him as well, murmuring into his chest, "I just thought you'd like to know that you two really were close."

Dean didn't have any words in response so he nodded and squeezed before letting go. "Bout time I head back. Seamus has got used to my cooking, I think. Thought maybe it'd be nice to surprise him with something good."

"All right, we'll talk again, all right? In the meantime, don't lose hope. With Harry and Ron on the case, I'm sure they'll find out what happened to you."

"Yeah, sounds good."

~~**~~

Seams fidgeted as he stood in front of Shacklebolt, together with Harry and Ron. He'd confessed and now he waited for Shacklebolt to come down on him. The feel of Lestrange's flesh under his fists had felt so good though, that he wasn't at all sorry he'd acted the way he had. He was only sorry that his actions would reflect poorly on Harry and Ron.

"Can't be helped now. We'll send a Healer out. We should be able to get the authorisation to use Veritaserum on him. I'll start the requests and hopefully Finnigan's actions won't impede the request though there's little love lost for anyone in there," he said, obviously meaning Azkaban. "So I don't think it'll hurt. Dismissed."

Seamus walked out of the office, flanked by Harry and Ron.

"You got a couple of good ones in; bet they felt good," Ron remarked as they continued towards the lifts.

"Aye, they did but I'm sorry that it might've hurt finding out about Dean. That's the important part, not administering another beating. I could've killed him."

"You didn't back when you brought him in, doubt you'd do it now that Dean's back." Ron clapped Seamus on the back. "He was a ruddy mess, wasn't he?"

"That's nothing to celebrate," Harry chastised. "Going to head home for the evening. Ginny's waiting dinner on me. It's some bloody anniversary or another."

"Hermione said she'd have something waiting as well."

"Dean's got something, too, I'm sure." When the other two looked at him with astonished expressions, Seamus laughed. "He can cook. One of the new things about him and Christ but he can cook. Made a roast the other night that had the meat fell apart on the bloody fork. Absolutely brilliant at it."

"Yeah? So dinner at your place next time, yeah?" Ron clapped Seamus once more before heading in to his office. "See you tomorrow? Or you still going to push papers?"

"You want them tickets or not?" Seamus pulled a set out of his pocket. "Here, by the way. There's ten in there so it should be enough if you want anyone to join you."

"Harry?" Ron looked hopeful.

"Can't, Ginny's playing, remember?" Ron's expression changed to crestfallen.

"You and Dean want to join me?"

"Aye, we've nothing planned but let me run it past him first." Seamus turned towards the lifts. "I'll get back to you tomorrow on it."

They waved him off and he made his way back to his flat in silent contemplation. The rage that had swept over him had been so intense. He hadn't even realised that he'd been pounding on Lestrange until Harry's hand had touched his shoulder. The thought of it was disturbing and Seamus rubbed at his knuckles and the broken skin there as he walked up the stairs and into the flat.

When he opened the door, the smell of stew drifted out. He breathed in deep and then finished entering and shut the door. "Dean?"

"In the kitchen, where else would I be?" Dean called out and Seamus smiled.

"Glad of it, I am. Dinner smells just about divine. Anything I can do to help?" Seamus asked as he came around the corner and stopped dead at the sight of Dean in the kitchen with an apron on. The grin on his face coupled with the way that the apron clung to his hips made Seamus's mouth go dry.

"Nothing really. I'm using a recipe I found stuffed in your cupboard. I figured you wouldn't mind." Dean gestured towards the bubbling pot. Seamus ambled over to the cooker and sniffed.

"That's me mam's stew." Seamus grabbed the spoon and dipped it in before grabbing some and taking a taste. When Dean whacked him across the back of the head and then grabbed the spoon out of his hand, Seamus laughed. "You had to know I'd do it."

"Go on and get changed, I'll dish it up." Dean shoved him towards the doorway.

Seamus followed the instructions and as he changed, he yelled out towards the kitchen, "I take it your session with Parvati went well?"

"Yeah, that test, though, not really certain about. I'd rather talk without yelling," Dean shouted back.

"That you're subtle way of telling me to hurry up?" Seamus shouted once more before pulling on a pair of denims and then exited the room.

"Too right!" Dean started to shout and then caught himself as Seamus came around the corner. "About time."

"Fuck off," Seamus said as he tossed a rude gesture towards Dean. "I'll only forgive you for that because of the stew."

Dean tossed the same gesture back and then they sat down and started eating. Seamus barely bit back the moans as he ate. This tasted even better than when his mam had made it the last time. "You're a good cook."

"Course I am, got to be good at something."

"Decide about going back to work?" Seamus asked, gesturing with his fork.

"Lavender said that maybe I could get something with her instead. I think I'd like to stay around here instead of going back. Wasn't entirely happy there, anyway." Dean paused and then looked around the kitchen. "That is, if I can stay."

"How many times have I got to tell you that you're more than welcome to stay? You want to look for another flat, we can do that too." Seamus reached out a hand and gripped Dean's wrist. "Going to have to talk to your mum sometime, though."

Dean didn't say anything back so Seamus tried to turn it into a joke, "At least get something else to wear as you're pretty manky."

"Can't help it that you don't have any machines. Not like I can just wave my little stick and make things instantly clean," Dean taunted back.

"It's not little," Seamus leered as he said it.

Dean started to laugh and then Seamus laughed, as well. The previously rising turmoil disappeared. Seamus hated to ruin the moment but he pressed on. "Seriously, though, mate, you're going to have to talk to her eventually."

"In my own time. She didn't talk to me for all those years, I don't think asking for a few more weeks is too much." Dean stopped talking and stared down at his food.

"She did what she thought best. Your whole family did. If you can't talk to your mam, talk to your sisters or your da at the least. They deserve to know that you're still alive." Seamus surprised himself with the lack of bitterness towards Dean's mam.

"Farrah knows. That's enough. She can tell the rest." Dean stabbed at a piece of meat. "Conversation's over."

"It isn't, no," Seamus disagreed. "They love you."

"They lied to me! You'd think that'd piss you off, too! They hid all of this from me!" Dean pushed the bowl towards the centre of the table. "They hid you and our life, why aren't you pissed?"

"I am, Dean, fucking well am, but they're still your family. They helped make you who you are and they kept you safe. I can't blame them for something that I might consider, meself." Seamus reached out a hand and touched Dean's, turning it palm up and gripping around his wrist so their palms pressed together. "You have to forgive them for trying to keep you safe, just like you need to forgive me for letting you go and forgive yourself for going along with it."

Dean looked down to their hands and Seamus's gaze followed. The silence stretched on until Seamus wondered if he'd overstepped his bounds. Slowly, Dean pulled his hand from Seamus's and then walked out of the kitchen, down the hallway and then Seamus heard a door shut.

"Right, that went well. Way to fuck it up, Finnigan, way to fucking well fuck it up," Seamus cursed himself.


	11. Chapter 11

"Opened me gob, opened it wide and just spat out some rubbish about forgiving everyone and he just walked. Haven't seen him since." Seamus reclined in the chair inside Parvati's office. He played with the fabric of his denims, pinching and then releasing it.

"There're going to be rough spots, you know that," Parvati said as she steepled her fingers under her chin and then grabbed the pink quill. "It was just yesterday?"

"Yeah, last night at dinner. He made me mam's stew so I just wanted him to talk to his mam, try to heal it up, you know?"

"Give him time, Seamus." Parvati counselled and Seamus glared at her. "Don't you glare at me. I know you don't have much patience but you'll need to acquire some from somewhere."

Seamus almost spat something mean back at her but he bit his tongue and reined in the anger. "Now that he's back, I keep thinking that something's going to suddenly make it all better. Isn't that what this treatment's supposed to do? Give him all his memories back?"

"It's extremely experimental and if it doesn't work, that's it. He can't try anything else to recover them."

"What do you mean by that?" Seamus sat up straighter. "This don't work and that's it?"

"Exactly. He's under a lot of stress and it's a big decision."

"So you're telling me that my timing couldn't have been poorer if I'd tried?" Seamus sat back and his head cracked against the wall. A knock sounded and Seamus sat up again.

"Speaking of timing," Parvati said wryly as she spelled the door open and Dean walked through. "Good morning, Dean."

"Morning, Vati," Dean said and then turned to Seamus. "Morning."

"Should leave you two alone to discuss whatever it is you're in here discussing." Seamus stood, painfully close to Dean, and then shied away from him.

"Don't have to go on my account."

"Got to get back to work anyway." Seamus nodded at Parvati and then slipped out the door, careful not to brush against Dean.

As he made his way down the hall towards the lifts, he heard Dean shout his name. Pausing where he stood, he braced himself for the inevitably awkward conversation about to follow.

"Seamus?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"Telling me what you thought instead of coddling me. I know I didn't react well but I appreciate it all the same."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You're in for it now, then. You'll always be getting my advice all the time," Seamus said, attempting to tease as relief swept through him. "By the way, if you're up for it, Quidditch game with Ron coming up if you want to go."

"Yeah, that'd be brilliant. Vati coming?"

"Don't know, you'll have to ask her." Seamus looked over his shoulder. "Dinner, my treat tonight?"

"Hope we're going out. I'd rather not end up with food poisoning," Dean quipped.

Seamus tossed a rude gesture towards Dean. "Got a treat for you."

"That sort of treat?" Dean raised his eyebrows and leered. Seamus laughed back.

"Just you wait, Thomas. Some day, some day. For now, go on, Vati's waiting for you and she's rather expensive." At Dean's worried look, Seamus clarified, "She'll expect you to cook for her or something. God knows that that's a fate worse than death and all."

"Sod off, Finnigan, just because you can't cook…"

"Just be ready for after your meeting with Vati. I'll meet you here about three." Seamus winked and then pressed the button for the lift.

"Okay, I'll see you then," Dean said as the lift pinged and the doors slid open. Seamus saluted and was off to prepare for their visit.

~~**~~

Bemused, Dean walked back down the hallway towards Parvati's office. After sitting in the same chair as Seamus, he watched as Parvati shut the door and then steepled her fingers under her chin. "So I hear you had an argument."

"We did, yeah. I reacted poorly." Dean unwittingly echoed Seamus's gesture of raking his hands through his hair. "Been asking people to stop coddling me and what do I do the second Seamus stops? I hare off to the loo to pout."

"Were you?" Parvati asked as she grabbed her quill and started taking notes.

"I was, yeah. He told me I needed to talk to my family and he's right but…" Dean trailed off, unsure how to continue in any way that wouldn't make him seem a petulant child. "But I'm still hurt that they held all of this," he waved his hands in the air to encompass the whole of the Wizarding world, "this place and magic and my past and Seamus from me. I'm pissed and hurt. Can't think of anything to say to them that isn't nasty."

"Then take your time, talk to them when you're ready." She looked up at him and dropped the quill. "Did he say anything else?"

"He said I needed to forgive him and myself, too." This part was so much harder to discuss. "I don't blame him. It's not his fault and I think he still blames himself. I catch him looking at me, sometimes."

"Looking? How?" Parvati quirked an eyebrow at him.

Dean gave a nervous laugh. "Did we talk? Before all of this? How close were we?"

"We were close enough. Not as close as we could've been. We were separated that last year of school and then life and loss got in the way. Has Seamus spoken to you about Colin?" Parvati asked as she reclined back in her chair.

"A bit. He's the bloke that took all the pictures? The ones during school, at least. Seamus said he died."

"Such an easy statement to make, 'he died'. We were," it was Parvati's turn to pause and it was obvious to Dean that she was searching for an appropriate word, "close. That last year of school. It hurt horribly when he died."

Dean was at a loss for words. He wasn't very good at thinking of the right thing to say normally let alone at moments like this. After a minute of searching, though, he found it unnecessary as she continued.

"Between that and Lavender needing support to heal, I was a mess. Seamus helped me. He's always been good at being there when you need him. He's sort of like a penny, in a way, always turning up just when you need him. When you and he were together, we got closer than we'd been in school but then, well, then you died and it took a bit but Seamus finally broke. So to answer your question, we were close, just not very close." She finally looked up and gave a small laugh. "That's me, always talking and taking forever and a day to answer a question. Where were we? Oh, right, Seamus has been looking at you and you were going to tell me how."

"He looks lost. Alone. I catch it at odd moments, like when we're watching a footie match on the telly or whatever. I'll look over and he'll be staring at me like, well, like I'm a mirage or something. Like he's afraid if he blinks, I'll disappear." Dean looked down at his hands and played with the skin on the backs of his knuckles. "Then there are other times that he looks at me like he's starving and I'm all he needs."

"And how do those looks make you feel?" Dean wanted to laugh at the obvious cliché of her asking him that but he didn't. Instead he paused and searched for the right words.

"Scared." He still didn't look up and as he listened for it, he didn't hear Parvati taking notes. "It scares me how much he needs me, how much power I have over him. You said he was fragile, before, but I don't think that's just right. Is there a word for more than fragile?"

"Has he told you what happened after you passed?" Dean still couldn't quite get over the way everyone kept referring to him as dying or passing.

"Said he went a bit insane, took missions that he shouldn't have, that sort of thing."

"So he is talking to you about it, then. That's good." At the pause, Dean finally looked up and saw her staring at him. "Is that the only reason you're scared? The amount of power you have because of how much Seamus loves you?"

"Does he love me? Or does he love who I was? I'm not the same. I don't think I can be." The last was whispered.

"There are so many questions that we don't have the answers to. Sometimes, I think that we're never meant to acquire the answers to everything." Parvati looked lost for a moment and then brightened. "Have you thought more about the procedure?"

"Yeah, still not sure about it. I don't know about losing every other chance. I want my past back so bad I can taste it."

"That's a decision only you can make."

Dean thought back to how he'd felt when he'd first remembered getting his Hogwarts letter and the little bits of memory. He remembered Parvati's excitement and then Seamus's. From there, the frustration and the disappointment of the various treatments flitted through his mind.

"Dean?" Parvati's voice intruded.

"Yeah?"

"You don't have to make that decision today. Not even tomorrow or the day after. Take your time, think it over." It all sounded so logical when she put it like that. He'd had just about four years of not having the memories so he'd gotten used to it, hadn't he? He couldn't lose what he didn't have. If this was the only option than he needed to take it.

"Let's do it."

"Take your time," Parvati cautioned.

"I've had four years. I don't need any more time. Healer Guérir is here, it's time." Dean's nerves tingled with the idea.

"We still don't know what caused the memory loss. As soon as we know, we can start." Parvati came around the desk and then hugged Dean. "I hope this works."

"Can't lose what I don't have," Dean said before hugging her back.

"Let's go talk to Healer Guérir."


	12. Chapter 12

When Dean stepped out of Parvati's office, Seamus was waiting. It was just before three and Seamus barely resisted bouncing on the balls of his feet or tapping his hands on his legs.

"Ready?"

"Yeah, got some news for you," Dean said.

"Yeah? Good news?" Seamus looked from Dean to Parvati.

"Dean's agreed to the procedure," Parvati said at length.

"That's brilliant, mate, but are you sure?" Seamus saw how worried Parvati looked and the worry clouded over the excitement.

"Yeah, am sure. No worries, it'll work out for the best. Come on, take me to dinner." Dean gestured towards the lift.

Seamus, though, looked to Parvati. "Dean tell you about the match? You want to go with Ron, Dean and I? Bring Lavender, we'll make a day of it."

"It's the Cannons. It won't take but an hour for them to lose," Parvati said wryly. Seamus laughed and then the lifts dinged, interrupting.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then?" Seamus confirmed their appointment.

"Yeah, have fun, you two." She waved them off and headed back towards her office while they stepped in to the lift.

"You're in for a treat," Seamus said as they descended.

"Anything that doesn't involve you cooking is a treat."

"Fuck off, Thomas. I buy takeaway with the best of them." They exited the lift on a laugh and then made their way to the Floo. "Haven't travelled by Floo yet, have you?"

"Uh, no." Seamus enjoyed the bemused look on Dean's face.

"Watch." A witch walked up and grabbed a handful of Floo powder before shouting a word and entering the Floo. She disappeared in a flash of colour and light.

"Cool," Dean whispered.

"Wanna try?" Seamus pointed towards the Floo. "Take some of that and as you toss it in, say 'Leaky Cauldron' very clearly. If you don't, you're liable to end up in Outer Mongolia or something."

"Sure." Seamus crossed his fingers as Dean grabbed the Floo powder and tossed it in the fire. "Leaky Cauldron." He stepped in and then disappeared in a flash.

Seamus echoed the gestures and then came through at the Leaky Cauldron. He saw Hannah embracing Dean and couldn't help smiling at the open embrace. Neville was in the process of coming over from the bar and shook Dean's hand.

"…see you here." Seamus caught the last bit of Neville's statement.

"Yeah, Seamus promised me a meal and a surprise of some sort," Dean said as he looked over his shoulder at Seamus.

"You're eating here, though, right?" Hannah looked between them.

"Course, lass, wouldn't want him to miss out on your food. We've a stop to make first, though. Maybe two."

"Sooner you get through them, the sooner you can eat. We'll let you get to it, then." Hannah hugged Dean and then Seamus and went back behind the bar, Neville trailing after her.

As Seamus and Dean walked behind the Leaky Cauldron, Seamus tapped his wand and the wall opened to show Diagon Alley. Dean gasped, stepping back as the sights and sounds came through.

"Brilliant, isn't it? Come on," Seamus said before grabbing Dean's arm and tugging him through the entrance.

Once they were in Diagon Alley, Seamus slowed so that Dean could look around and absorb.

"This is crazy," Dean whispered. "This can't be real."

"It is, welcome to Diagon Alley, the centre of the magical shopping world. We used to come here to get our books and stuff for school. We'd meet up over at Flourish & Blott's and then we'd take off to Fortescue's and get ice cream. Haven't had that ice cream in years, mate. We should get some after we eat at the Leaky," Seamus babbled to fill the silence between them as Dean stared at the various vendors and witches and wizards in the street. "You all right there?"

"Seamus, this whole thing is real," Dean whispered again.

"Sure it is. You've seen me doing magic."

"That's… that's different."

"And you've been to St. Mungo's. You saw that guy with the elephant trunk for a nose. There was the Quidditch match, too. How'd you think all of that happened? Make-up, strings and wires?"

"It didn't seem real, not until now. I can't explain it but it didn't and now it does." Dean looked to Seamus with wonder and a hint of fear.

"I don't get it but that's all right, I don't have to, not really. You need a minute or are you ready for the rest?" Seamus held out his hand and was relieved when Dean placed his hand in it. "Just wait. You'll see."

"Okay, let's get to it." Dean stepped forward.

Seamus squeezed Dean's hand and then let go. He teased, "If you're a good boy, maybe I'll get you something at the Quidditch store."

"Oh yeah? I can be a good boy all right," Dean leered at Seamus and then laughed.

"Come on, then, on to the other end."

They wandered along, passing Quality Quidditch Supplies where children pressed their noses to the glass to look at the Nimbus 4000 on display. Flourish and Blott's and then Madam Malkin's. When they got to Gringott's, Seamus held up a hand. "You can wait out here or you can come in with me but I need to withdraw some money first."

"This is a bank?" Dean stared at the edifice.

"Aye, yeah. Goblins run it so it's secure." Seamus started up the stairs.

"Goblins? Now you're having me on." Dean followed.

"Aye, sure, mate, just having you on. It's all in the make-up and string." Seamus rolled his eyes and opened the door. "In you go."

They entered the bank and Seamus laughed as Dean's jaw literally dropped at his first sight of goblins. He cuffed Dean on the shoulder and then whispered, "Just you wait for your first view of a centaur."

"Blimey," Dean said.

"Want to go down to my vault?" Seamus offered.

"Vault?"

"Aye. It's not as big as Harry's but I've got a nice bit of savings now. Aiming to spend a bit of it today, though." Seamus waved at Dean and then went over to a goblin, showing his identification and then offering his vault key. "Come on or you'll miss it."

They followed the goblin along the bumpy ride until he opened up Seamus's vault. The pile was sizeable enough considering that the only money he'd spent was on takeaway, his flat and the pub nights with Dennis. Remembering the pub nights reminded Seamus that he needed to send another owl to Dennis and one to Dennis's parents, as well.

After stuffing galleons into a bag, Seamus turned to see Dean staring in to the vault. "What's wrong?"

"Do I have a vault?" Dean asked.

"Dunno, really. Your mam inherited everything when you passed. You've seen the letters, she wasn't big on letting me know anything." Seamus tried to keep the bitterness from his voice.

Dean stepped forward and embraced Seamus. "I'm sorry, I forgot for a minute. Something else I'll need to talk to my mum about when I see her."

"It's all right, mate. It's in the past and no use dwelling on it. What's done is done and all that rot. Didn't mean to ruin the experience with me moods. Come along, let's get out of here and to the surprise." Seamus squeezed Dean tighter and then let go.

The ride to the surface was just as jarring and they quickly exited the bank. The bright sunshine and high activity level of Diagon Alley lifted Seamus's spirit enough that by the time they reached Ollivander's, he was bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Here it is!"

"Ollivander's? Makers of Fine Wands since…" Dean read and then his voice trailed off. Seamus's grin spread further as Dean turned towards him with a bemused expression on his face. "What're we doing here?"

Seamus winked and opened the door, gesturing for Dean to enter. An old stooped-over man came around from behind one of the stacks of wands and clapped his hands, startling both of them. "Mister Thomas! I've not seen you since you were a child. Here to purchase a new wand? Replace the one you lost, eh?"

"Who? What?" Dean stammered.

"That's right, Mister Ollivander," Seamus answered for Dean.

"A wand? Seamus, you're taking the piss."

"I think I have just the thing, give me a moment. Why yes, there it is, there it is!" Ollivander said as he opened boxes and shut them just as quickly before coming to the one he'd been looking for. He offered the wand to Dean and Dean balked.

"Try it, Dean," Seamus implored.

"What the hell do I even do with it?" Dean reached out and took the wand.

"Now give it a swish and a flick." Dean brandished the wand and boxes rattled while the glass on the counter shattered. "Yes! Like that but just not with that wand, here I'll bring another."

As Ollivander wandered in to the back of the shop, Dean leaned in to Seamus and whispered, "Are you serious? I'm getting a wand? What am I going to do with a wand?"

"Magic, Dean, you'll do magic." Seamus watched as Ollivander came back up with another.

"Try this one. Should've thought of it first. Hawthorne, just like your other wand. This one's a bit less springy but it's a good length." Ollivander handed over the wand. "Owl feather in it. Bit unremarkable to most but I think you're the sort to appreciate it. Knowledge, wisdom and memory, an owl has it all."

Dean held the wand and flicked it, causing bright red and purple sparks to shoot from the tip. "The wand chooses the wielder and it looks like this one has chosen you!"

As Dean stared at the wand and caused more sparks to come out of the tip, Seamus subtly paid Ollivander for the wand and then tugged on Dean's arm. "Come on, mate, let's get something to eat. Thanks, Mister Ollivander. Appreciate it."

"Take more care with your wands, Mister Thomas, it wouldn't do to lose another," Ollivander shouted after them and then the door shut behind them.

"Did you see that?" Dean said as he stared down at the wand.

"I did, yeah. Pretty wicked, isn't it? You'll be doing magic again in no time."

"God. I could feel it, too. There was this tingle when I flicked it." Dean paused to stare at the wand.

"Just wait until you learn how to use it." Seamus tugged on Dean's wrist again and they made their way through Diagon Alley.

"Dean? Dean Thomas?" A voice came from outside of Eeylops’.

"Yeah?" Dean turned and looked at the woman as she approached. Seamus braced himself.

"I thought… well, obviously the Prophet got something else wrong," Angelina said as she reached them.

"Angelina? He, um, he's, err, he's different," Seamus stumbled over his explanation as Dean started to shy away from her.

"Different? He looks the same." She reached out a hand and cuffed Dean across the shoulder. "Bit of a scare you gave everyone faking your death like that. Not on, mate, not on at all."

"There's more to it than that," Seamus interfered and didn't much care about how she glared at him. "He doesn't remember."

"I can speak for myself," Dean said. "I don't remember you or any of this."

"Oh?" Angelina still looked disbelieving. "So you don't remember snogging me in the Quidditch shed?"

"I did?" Dean flushed and looked at Seamus.

"You did?" Seamus looked at Dean while Angelina started laughing.

"Teasing, I'm just teasing. Besides, George would've kicked your arse if you'd tried."

"George?" Dean asked.

"Ginny and Ron's older brother, I'll tell you about him later." Seamus turned to Angelina. "We're on our way to dinner. We'll catch up some other time?"

"Good luck and good to see that you're not dead," Angelina said with a salute and then headed across the street.

Once they reached the brick wall, Seamus gestured at it. "Here, you do it."

"Me?"

"Yeah?" Dean held out the wand gingerly and Seamus pointed to the bricks while Dean tapped them. The bricks tumbled open and they walked through. "That is so cool."

"Isn't it?" Seamus held the door open and they slipped in to the Leaky Cauldron.

They slipped in to a table near the edge of the room and then ordered their food from the girl that helped Hannah out. "Don't know what Parvati'll think of it but you should have a wand."

"I'll ask her. Besides, I'm not going to try anything until I learn what I'm doing." Dean started to continue but Hannah came over with a couple pints.

"Here you go, lads. On the house, this round too, if only because it's so good to see you out and about finally, Seamus," Hannah said as she put the glasses on the table.

Seamus immediately felt uncomfortable with the way that Hannah and Dean were looking at him. He hadn't wanted Dean to know that he'd withdrawn as much as he had. With the way that he'd fallen back in to the social patterns with everyone, it hadn't been apparent.

"Yeah, thanks," Seamus said, hoping that she'd go back to the bar or another patron would need her.

"Two years is a bit long to ignore everyone, though, Seamus. I know you see Harry and Ron at work but the rest of us were here, too. Just stop being such a stranger and maybe go visit Neville. He missed you and it hurt him that you disappeared like that, especially after all you two went through together." Hannah squeezed his shoulders and then wandered back to the bar.

Seamus wouldn't look at Dean. Instead, he looked about the room. Finally, though, Dean said, "Didn't see anyone for two years?"

"It wasn't like that. I saw people."

"At work."

"Aye." Seamus looked up and saw Dean staring at him. "Saw Dennis outside of work, too, though."

"Didn't you date or anything?"

"Not really, no."

"Define 'not really'."

"I didn't, all right? I didn't date. Didn't do much at all except work, go back to my flat and drink or meet Dennis at a bar to drink. That what you want to hear?" Seamus demanded. "You happy now? You going to tell me all about how you had this great life where you dated and how I should've done the same?"

"I dated, yeah," Dean admitted as he fiddled with the glass, moving it so that it rested in the exact centre of the napkin. "It was weird though, felt uncomfortable, so nothing really went anywhere. I would've thought you would've gone out with friends or something."

"I was miserable, absolutely miserable because I was mourning you. I pulled back and not a thing wrong with it." Seamus raked a hand through his hair. "Glad you were off having fun but I wasn't. It fucking well _hurt_ that you were gone and I didn't deal well with it."

"I didn't know about you, Seamus. I didn't know about any of this so I don't get why you're holding that against me!" Dean shouted and the hag at the next table looked over at them. When Dean spoke again, his voice was much lower, "I can't keep apologising for things that happened."

"Did you kiss them? Touch them? Bet it was girls, too." Seamus absorbed what else Dean had said. "And you can't, no, but I'm floundering here, Dean, and have been for years. The world's gone on without me and it's rather hard to deal with."

Dean's hand held on to his, pulling it from the pint glass. "Same. We'll just have to flounder together."

Seamus turned his palm up and held on to Dean's hand as if it were a lifeline. In that moment, it felt like it.

~~**~~

Dean fidgeted in his seat. They were just about to start removing the memories to work on them. Harry, Ron and Michael hadn't found much out yet, but the healers wanted to start regardless. It made him nervous that they didn't know how to work with his memories but they were forging ahead anyway.

"Relax, Dean, concentrate on your breathing," Parvati said in an even gentle tone. "In through the nose and out through the mouth. Deep, soothing breaths."

Dean did as he was bade but the nerves didn't dissipate. "You're going to feel tingling behind your ears. Just relax as much as you can, it will go faster and easier if you relax."

"You try relaxing," Dean muttered under his breath.

Parvati reached out and squeezed his hand. "What's your favourite recent memory? Tell me about it."

Dean looked around at all the people in the room and thought of one that he could share. Parvati squeezed his hand again. "Anything is all right. They're not listening."

"The other night? I woke up in the middle of the night and I could feel someone watching me. Should've been creepy, you know?" Dean stared at Parvati as he spoke. She squeezed his hand once more and he continued, buoyed by the touch. "But it wasn't. I shifted like I was still asleep and when I looked up, I could see Seamus there in the moonlight just watching me sleep. We'd argued about dating and how he pulled back from everyone and then that night, that's when I saw him watching me sleep. He looked so sad and I wanted to say something or do something. I really did but instead, I just watched him watching me."

"Do you think he does that often?"

"Maybe? I think I've caught him at it before but that line between sleep and awake, you know?" Dean squeezed Parvati's hand. "So I made this noise and he grinned, smiled like I'd just given him this amazing gift and then he said 'goodnight, Dean'. It's the smile more than anything else that sticks with me."

"He hasn't been happy in a very long time," Parvati said. "You were both so gone over one another and then he had it ripped out from under him. You being back _is_ a gift for him. I'm glad that you've been so careful of him."

"It's hard, though. I just wanted to hit him when I heard how he pulled away from all of you."

"He needed space and we gave him that." The healers approached and Parvati let go of his hands. "Remember that smile and relax. Maybe think about what else you could do to get that smile again."

So Dean did. As the healers touched his head with their wands and the buzzing in his ears started, as the itch behind his ears turned into what felt like thousands of ants scurrying over his skull, Dean thought of what he wanted to do to make that grin reappear. That one recaptured image of hands ghosting down his chest while he arched backwards filled his mind's eye and he imagined what else they could do, how else Dean could touch Seamus to get that grin. Or, even better, what other faces Seamus just might make.


	13. Chapter 13

Seamus paced outside Kingsley's office. He hadn't heard from the man in too long. Even now, Dean was having his lost memories pulled out to try to be healed and it was about time the Aurors got around to finding out just what had happened. With sharp knocks, Seamus banged on the door again.

"I'm not in there, Finnigan," Kingsley said from behind him. He turned on his heel and watched as Kingsley approached. "Here for an update on the Thomas situation?"

"Aye, sir, that I am." Seamus stepped back and waited for Kingsley to open the door and then followed him in. "Lestrange talk any further?"

"We have permission to utilize Veritaserum. Harry, Ron and yourself are cleared to administer it. Anything happens to Lestrange, though, and you'll be out, you understand?"

"Aye, I'm to control meself. I can do that."

"Can you?" Kingsley sat behind his desk. "I suggest you do regardless of your ability. You muddle this up and we'll never find out what happened to Thomas. The Wizengamot won't let us near the rest what with the repeated abuse of prisoners, Death Eaters or not. Especially with these damnable trials coming up next week."

"I'll control meself, you've my word."

"Then here," Kingsley said while holding out a form. "Harry and Ron should be back in their offices."

"Thank you for the opportunity, sir," Seamus said and then grabbed the form and headed to the office Harry and Ron shared.

He knocked on the partially open door and popped his head in. "Just came from speaking with Shacklebolt. Looks like it's a go. When do you want to do this?"

"No time like the present," Ron said as he grabbed his wand from the desk.

"Agreed," Harry said and followed suit.

"Was hoping you'd say that." Seamus backed out of the doorway and then all three made their way to the Floo Network, quickly heading over to Azkaban.

"Lestrange, Rodolphus, Interrogation Room Four, please," Harry said and Seamus handed over the paper from Kingsley. The guard nodded and left while the three of them walked towards the interrogation room.

"You going to beat the bloody hell out of him again?" Ron asked as they entered the room. "Or you going to let one of us get a couple of blows in?"

"No one is beating anyone else, Ron. We don't need to. He'll tell us what we want regardless."

"Right, not planning on hitting him."

"You weren't before, either, but you still did it. We can't go about beating on everyone. We have to be the better people," Harry lectured while Seamus ground his teeth to keep from saying anything.

"Aye, you're coming through loud and clear, there, mum." Seamus saluted after they shut the door.

"Fuck off with that attitude, I'm trying to keep you from getting fired." Harry shook his head while Ron laughed.

"Fired? From Quidditch? Aye, I'm sure that'll be happening." Seamus would have continued but Lestrange entered the room in handcuffs and escorted by a guard on either side.

"Back again? To what do I owe the dubious honour?"

"Mouth," Harry commanded as he held out the dropper. Ron held the form detailing the authorisation for Veritaserum for Lestrange's perusal. Lestrange didn't open his mouth so Seamus pinched his nose until the man couldn't hold his breath further and his mouth burst open. Harry dropped the Veritaserum on his tongue. Seamus let go and stepped back.

"Dean Thomas." It was said plainly.

"So?" Lestrange answered.

"What did you do to his memories?" Seamus asked and he enjoyed the way that Lestrange's face twisted as he tried to resist the Veritaserum but then it all came spilling out. Lestrange detailed the way that they'd used a spell designed to relieve all Muggleborns of their memories of magic. He told them about the research and the way that Bellatrix Lestrange had come up with the spell. The experiments on Muggleborns seized at the train station during Seamus's first seventh year and the resulting deaths and ruined lives that followed. All of it spilled out and Seamus took detailed notes to help the Healers as they worked with Dean.

"Were there any others?" Harry asked and Lestrange, unable to fight the Veritaserum, told them about the rest of the Muggleborns. Within moments, there were so many that Seamus couldn't possibly write all of them down, if Lestrange had ever even bothered to learn their names. That, to Seamus, was the worst part, that these children were so worthless that Lestrange couldn't even bother with their names as he ripped away their lives. Some had been returned to their families, others had escaped. Some were in St Mungo's while others were in institutions across Europe. It was heartbreaking and by the end, Seamus felt numb. There were so many people, so many lives shattered. This was way more than just Dean and him and the scope and breadth of it overwhelmed him.

It was obvious that Harry and Ron felt the same as they waved Lestrange out of the interrogation room and three of them were quiet as they went back through the Floo and into the office. The report was simple and to the point, merely a recitation of the details with no extra information added. As they were close to finishing, Seamus looked at his watch and the cursed.

"Am late to get to St. Mungo's. Finish this tomorrow?" Ron and Harry looked up from the work.

"Yeah, let us know how it went with Dean."

"Aye, sure." As Seamus was leaving the office, Kingsley came walking up and Seamus gestured towards the office.

The numbness didn't wear away as he got to St. Mungo's and found Parvati. "How'd it go?"

"What's wrong?" She asked as she saw his demeanour.

"There's so many, like Dean. Can't imagine so many people suffering like this," Seamus said and then suppressed it. "How's he doing? Can I see him?"

"He's in a private room. They were able to get behind the wall and retrieve what appears to be all of the damaged memories. We'll need to meet with the Healers regarding what you found out from Azkaban." Parvati embraced him tightly. "We'll work to fix them all, you know that."

"Aye, but, Christ. If I'd just thought about it, if any of us had just thought…"

"Going down that path isn't healthy. There's no way we could've known that the Death Eaters were experimenting on anyone. It wasn't in any of the paperwork from the Registry files or anything." Seamus clung to her and breathed in the scent of hydrangeas. It soothed him enough that he finally let go.

"Can I see Dean?"

"He's this way, I'll need to escort you. Stay as quiet as possible as he's resting and probably has the world's worst headache. It's very hopeful looking, though." Parvati held on to his waist as they walked. "He knows you watch him."

"Oh," Seamus said, unsure how to answer that. He'd tried to be quiet about it. The need for reassurance that Dean was really there was easier to control during the day but at night, it was all Seamus could do to resist holding on to Dean, crawling in to the bed and clinging for dear life and sanity. "Thought maybe he did."

"He cares for you, Seamus, whether or not he remembers, he cares about you. Remember that in the coming days just in case his behaviour changes because of the memory extraction."  

"Behaviour changes?"

"We just don't know," she said and then rested her hand on the doorknob. "Best to whisper, he's in pain."

~~**~~

Dean burrowed deeper under the blankets, locking out the rest of the room. It wasn't that the light or the lack thereof bothered his eyes. It was more that outside of the blankets, the room felt too large, too full while his brain felt too empty. His mind, the way his thoughts echoed about inside the hollow spots, reminded him of the old wells he'd drop a coin into when he was a child. The coin would fall and fall in silence until, suddenly, it hit something and a _plink_ would echo up from the bottom. Here, in his own head, his thoughts rattled around all the empty spots that should contain _something_ but, instead, had nothing.

Under the blankets, the too big room receded and he was left with this tiny spot that felt just full enough. It contained everything he needed and it made his thoughts echo less in his head. As the door opened and intruded into this small dark world, he groaned.

"Dean?" Seamus's voice came as if from a distance. It took a moment for Dean to place the voice but once he did, he reached a hand out from under the blankets to beckon Seamus closer.

"Seamus?"

"Yeah, am here, mate." Dean didn't have to strain to hear Seamus cross the room. Instead, he braced himself for the empty echoing but, instead, all he felt was the warmth of Seamus's hand on his own. "How're you?"

"Been better."

"Ain't that the truth. Vati says that they have your memories in jars or bowls or something." Seamus's hand rubbed against Dean's, warm, soothing circles that filled the empty spaces so that it didn't seem quite so bad.

"Makes 'em sound like soup," Dean whispered as he curled on his side and poked his nose out of the blankets. Seamus filled his vision in the murky light of the room.

"Guess they are, right now. Just think, eleven year old you is swimming around next to twenty year old you. Wonder what they'd tell each other if they could talk?"

"Dunno, don't know 'em yet, do I?" Dean's temper surfaced. "Sorry, don't know where that came from."

"It's all right, mate. You're allowed, just had another major…err… thing happen, didn't you?" Seamus's hand never stopped rubbing circles on his skin.

"'Thing' is one way of putting it." Dean pulled the blankets down just a bit further and reached out with his other hand, gripping Seamus's wrist and trapping his hand between his own. "What would yours tell each other?"

"What, twenty year old me and eleven year old me?" Seamus asked, making Dean nod. "Aye, well, I'm sure the little one would tell the older one to stop being so fucking serious all the time and the older would tell the younger to try to grab a hold of everything and not let any of it go."

"Good advice." Dean clung to Seamus's hand as he started to shift about and tried to pull his hand away. "Where're you going?"

"Budge over," Seamus ordered. Dean, completely confused, did as he was bade and then grinned as Seamus crawled into the narrow hospital bed with him. Curling around Seamus's warmth, Dean laid his head on Seamus's stomach and then breathed in the scent that clung to Seamus's shirt. His hands started to rub circles on Dean's temples once more and Dean moaned. "Better?"

"Yeah, ta." As the pattern stabilised, Dean found himself falling asleep. It was too much to resist and he drifted off.

When he woke, it was to the vibrations of Seamus's chest under his cheek. "…yeah, I thought but..."

"I'll cover for you as long as I can but they won't let you stay all night." That was Parvati's voice though it took Dean a moment to place it.

"Is fine, he's barely got any sleep as it is. I'll just stay a bit longer."

"All right." The sound of the door closing seemed unnaturally loud to Dean and he couldn't help the flinch.

"Sh, it's ok, just Parvati checking on you. I'm not allowed to stay for much longer." Seamus's voice sounded much quieter and Dean grabbed hold of his hand.

"Don't leave me, not yet." He hated how small he sounded, as if he were that eleven year old self they'd been talking about earlier. "Tell me about how it went with whoever it was. Tell me about when we were in school. Tell me anything just… just stay."

"You were always better at magic than me," Seamus started the story. "When we were learning how to levitate stuff back in first year, I blew up a feather. Explosion was awesome, though. I kept doing it even after we figured out the swish and flick. Never did get water to turn into rum though. Every once in awhile, I'll try it again and see. Sometimes, I think that I'd have been better off opening up a pub. I wonder what we would've been if I'd done that instead of becoming an Auror. I wonder what would've happened if you would've gone to art school like you dreamed of. But you and me, we went in and became Aurors and now look at us. What would it have been like for you to be that graphic designer… artist… person that you are instead of all this suffering. You think we would've been happier?"

"I think that the past is the past and, sometimes, you don't get it back, even when your head’s echoing and everything feels so empty." Dean had resigned himself to not regaining his memories as they'd pulled them out. Those glowing, ephemeral swirls of light hadn't seemed like much, like they hadn't been an entire life. What could they possibly do to make this better?

"That's just the mood talking, Dean. You'll get your memories back."

"And then what? We'll be happy again and everything will go back the way it was? I'm not the same person and I doubt you are, either. I can't think, my head feels so empty and right now," Dean paused as he tried to stop the confession from flowing out but he couldn't, the need was too strong, "all I want is my mum."

"I'm sorry, Dean, so sorry," Seamus answered. The soothing circles on his scalp started again. "I'm sorry she isn't here and I'm sorry you've been through all of this."

"I didn't mean to snap at you," Dean apologized as Seamus sounded hurt. "Talk to me?"

Seamus started again as Dean let himself drift back to sleep, "You used to forge signatures all the time. You'd write notes to get us out of class or…"


	14. Chapter 14

The knock echoed in the narrow confines of the small hallway. When the door opened, Seamus was quick to put his foot in the door. "I'm sorry for coming over here unannounced but I've – "

"You aren't welcome," Dean's mam stated plainly. When she went to shut the door, Seamus's foot pinched and he flinched.

"Dean's in hospital." Dean's mam pulled the door open half an inch as she gaped at him. "They're trying to fix his memories and he wants you."

"He wants me?" She sounded hopeful and, at the same time, lost. Seamus put on his most sincere expression.

"He said it himself. He's not happy with you but he needs you because you're his mam and that means more to him. I know you and I don't see eye to eye about this and I know that you blame me but can you please put it aside for just a bit and come with me to see him? Please?"

"I'll get my coat." She didn't offer him admittance into the flat and he didn't ask. Instead, he waited in the hallway until she came out. They'd had such a good relationship until that seventh year. He'd run wild at the Thomas's during the summers just like Dean had run wild at his own place. He could remember sitting at the table while Mrs Thomas baked or cooked for them. They'd hide in Dean's room and pretend to do their summer reading while they and Mrs Thomas knew full well that they'd been looking at skin mags or talking about Quidditch or football or anything else that little boys could think of to talk about. After that seventh year, the relationship had been a bit tense but hadn't been anything that they weren't able to work through. When Dean and him had started dating, she'd hugged him. Now, she could barely stand to look at him let alone speak.

"Could Apparate us, if you'd like. It'd be quicker." She gave an abrupt nod and Seamus held on to her arms and then they were in St. Mungo's. Stepping back quickly, Seamus gestured towards the hall, "He's this way."

The walk was made in silence. As they passed Parvati, Seamus saw her start to speak and gestured at her for later. When they reached the doorway to Dean's room, Seamus paused. "His head aches and he says it echoes. So speak quietly, yeah?"

"Of course," she said. Seamus gave a nod and opened the door.

"Dean? Mate? You've a visitor."

At the sound of his voice, Dean rolled over and looked to the door. Seamus stepped back as Dean stared at his mum and croaked out, "Mum?"

"Oh my baby," she whispered and then walked across the room and held on to him. Feeling like an intruder, Seamus shut the door and then leaned against it, closing his eyes. Hopefully, Dean wouldn't get pissed at him. Hopefully, Dean would be happy about it. Hopefully, Dean would see that Seamus was willing to get Dean what he wanted. Arms came around him and Seamus leaned in, breathing in the scent of hydrangeas that clung to Parvati.

"It'll be all right, love, I promise."

"What if it isn't? What if this is it?" He held on tightly.

"Then that's the way it is. What will be, will be. What is, is."

"Fucking Indian mysticism," Seamus cursed into her neck and then gave a small laugh.

"You're just jealous, you and your Irish fatalism." She gave a squeeze and then released him. "Everything will work out for the best, you have to believe it."

"Little hard to do that right now." Seamus raked a hand through his hair and then changed the subject. "Heard from Dennis lately?"

"Nothing. I've owled him several times but haven't heard a thing. What will be, will be," she repeated and then smiled sadly at him. "We can't fix everyone and everything, much as we'd like. Dennis will have to fix Dennis."

"I'd just feel better if he'd at least talk to one of us. Doesn't have to be me or you, even. Just someone so that we'd know if he'd offed himself or not."

"I'm sure he hasn't offed himself. Drunk himself into a stupor and done something stupid? Yes, I can see that. If he were going to kill himself, he would've done it years ago."

The door opened a crack and Dean's mam looked out. "Dean's asking for both of you."

Seamus and Parvati both entered the room. When Dean's mam sat next to him, holding on to his hand, Seamus felt a twinge of jealousy but pushed it down. This wasn't the time nor the place. Dean was finally talking to his mam and that was much more important than anything else.

"Vati? Could you tell mum about what's going on? I tried but I didn't make much sense."

"Of course," she said and then explained the procedure and the hopeful outcome.

~~**~~

Dean chafed at being at hospital for so long. He'd got used to the emptiness in his head or, at least, as used to it as expected. Light no longer bothered him and his headache had abated to a tolerable level. Much as he appreciated how hard everyone was working for him, he wanted out of here desperately.

Seamus's daily visits kept him sane in the midst of the lack of progress. There were times that Dean could tell that Seamus had to reach for a cheerful disposition and Dean appreciated that even as he wanted to smack Seamus for it. The helplessness was what was really annoying him, not Seamus.

His mum visited and, though the visits were strained, Dean tried to be polite to her. They didn't talk about how she'd kept the past from him. They didn't talk about any of that. Instead, they talked about the diagnosis and the treatment. His dad came with her a couple of times and those visits were a little less strained. Whenever his family's visits coincided with Seamus's, the tension in the room would increase until Dean's headaches came back and he'd need the curtains drawn because the light was too much. At least his dad made an effort to talk to Seamus. Dean's mum would glare until Seamus finally gave up and left.

His sisters' trips were much less strained as they talked about almost everything that didn't have to do with his memories or the past. Instead, they'd tell stories of Farrah's kids or Kerry's latest dating escapades. The first time that their time coincided with Seamus, Seamus started to back out but they bade him enter.

"You two back together, then?" Farrah asked baldly.

"Uh, no," Seamus stumbled over the words and flushed.

"Why not?" Kerry asked.

"It, um, it's complicated."

"Right, sure," Kerry said and Dean could tell that she wasn't buying it. "Still doing that police thing?"

"No, I'm with an international sport agency."

"That why you're not dating my brother anymore? Too many hot athletic guys?" Kerry winked to take the heat from her remark.

"That's it entirely. Who'd want an artist when he could have an athlete?" Seamus winked at Dean as he said it. Hurt curled but then slowly disappeared as Seamus continued, "After all, everyone would want dumb and fit over creative and fit any day. Brains are such a deterrent, aren't they?"

"They really are. Who wants a man that can think? You lot are only around to lift heavy things and get shite off the top shelf in the kitchen."

"Sod off, lass, you know we're good for more than that and if you'd ever date a bloke with a brain, you'd know that." Seamus reached out and patted Dean's arm. "Just ask your brother."

"Don't look at me," Dean said as he held up his hands as if to ward the conversation off. "Can't remember, remember?"

"What an excuse." Farrah slapped his arm. "You'll have to stop using that as soon as you get your memories back."   

"I think I'll keep using it. Gets you two to visit me, doesn't it? You all fetch and carry, just like a pair of birds should do." Dean laughed as Kerry and Farrah gave twin roars and then hit him with pillows. "Oi! Injured man here! You should be coddling me! Save me, Seamus!"

"You got yourself into that one, even I'm not stupid enough to insult your sisters. Christ but they're fearsome creatures, aren't they?"

"Creatures?!" They both shrieked and changed their attack over to Seamus. Dean laughed until he cried. These visits were so much better than his mum's.

"That's it! I'm going back to work where I get some respect!" Seamus laughed while he yelled and then, with a quick squeeze of Dean's hand, left them alone.

In the silence that followed, Dean wasn't at all certain what to say. Kerry, though, didn't have the same hesitation, "You both worked. Mum wouldn't let us say anything but you did. I'm glad you're back together."

"We're not, not really. We're in this sort of limbo, yeah? Tiptoeing around one another and …"

"He loves you and I can tell you love him with or without your memories." Kerry slid onto the bed next to Dean and leaned her head against his shoulder. "You guys worked."

Farrah sat down against his other side, making it a tight fit but Dean didn't care as she laid her head against his shoulder, too. "You did. More, you will again."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

~~**~~

The owl fluttered to a stop and then a letter rested on the edge of his desk. It certainly had to be something important if he'd got an owl instead of an inner-office letter. After giving the owl a treat from his desk, he opened the letter before promptly dropping it.

He'd been summoned to appear before the Wizengamot in the trial of Rodolphus Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov regarding their treatment of Muggleborns and the experimentation. This was an unmitigated disaster waiting to happen. Lestrange would tell all and sundry about Seamus beating on him. Then Seamus would face a trial of his own and, Christ sake. Christ sake. He was fucked.

It was hard to go back to concentrating on the logistics involved in getting so many departments working together for the next Quidditch World Cup. He'd have to talk to the Aurors – _oh Christ, he was fucked_ – about safety precautions what with the trials being so close to the Cup itself. Then there were the Obliviators – _oh fuck, what if they Obliviated him and sent him off?_ There were the Muggle Liasons and his boss and Kingsley and… and he was borrowing trouble sure as the day was long, he was borrowing trouble.

"Dean still in hospital, then?" The voice startled him out of his panic. When he looked up, he saw Ron leaning in the doorway. "Going to miss the match, he stays in there much longer."

"Vati thinks he'll get released soon. They want to make sure there aren't any other effects from the extraction. Maybe even tomorrow if our luck holds." Seamus beckoned Ron in, "Come on in. You here to get some tickets or something? I've a few to see the Kestrals. You want 'em, they're yours."

"See you got the summons." Ron entered and sat on the chair pushed in the corner.

"Aye, I did, yeah. You too?" Seamus combed his hand through his hair as he resisted the urge to chew on a fingernail.

"Yeah, figured it was a matter of course, really. We're the ones that found out the information so we're needed to testify." Ron tapped a hand on the desk. "Stop worrying. Harry and I have your back. Doesn't really matter, either."

"You're not the one who shouldn't have been there, are you?" Seamus raked a hand through his hair once more. He could really use a pint right about now. That thought sobered him more than any other. Perhaps he'd had more of a problem than he'd known about. "The reinstatement was temporary and I abused it. I'll take me knocks."

"There won't be any. You're worrying over nothing just like I told Harry you would."

"Fuck off, Ron, when did you get to be all-knowing? Hermione rub off on you, then?"

"Rub one off, maybe," Ron said while tossing a rude gesture.

"Just let her hear you talk like that, mate, and you'll be fucked and it won't be in the good way." Seamus laughed as Ron looked about.

"I hate you, Finnigan, I really do. Why did I ever miss you?"

"My charming personality? My amazing wit? My hot arse?" Seamus winked and then dug through the papers on his desk. "Kestrals tickets. You want 'em?"

"Course I do. They're the only thing that makes me want to have you around all the time, you pervy bastard." Ron stood and grabbed the tickets. "You sure Dean's up for the match later?"

"Yeah, sure he will be."

"He get anything back yet?"

"Nothing. They're still working on something or another. I don't really understand it. Parvati opens her mouth and it's like she's speaking another language or something."

"I understand that one. Hermione starts talking about her work and I end up just smiling and nodding except when she looks pissed then I try to scowl a bit. So much easier when we were in school, weren't it?" Ron ducked as a memo flew past his head. "Right, work. I'll catch up with you later. Don't worry over the summons."

"Yeah, ta." Seamus waved him out and opened the memo. His boss needed a report on the space needs for the various tents.

"Working hard or hardly working?" This voice was another shock. When Seamus looked up, he saw Dennis standing in the doorway.


	15. Chapter 15

"Fuck's sake, mate, least you could've done was return an owl or two," he said as he gave Dennis a squeeze and the pulled back to shake him. "Had me and Vati worried sick what with the way you disappeared."

"Yeah, well, had to go and get my head back on, didn't I?" Seamus stepped back and gestured for Dennis to enter. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"Just a boring report on camping requirements for the next World Cup. Nothing important. So, where've you been?"

"Romania," Dennis said as he sat down.

"Fuck off, really?" Dennis nodded. "What the hell were you doing there?"

"Getting my head put back on. Colin and me, we always talked about going to see the dragons, you know? Blame the Triwizard Tournament for that. Once we heard there were dragons, Colin and me snuck out one night and, God, they were awesome creatures, weren't they?" Dennis looked far off for a moment and Seamus let him gather himself. "After dinner that night and Parvati yelling at me like she did, well, I took her seriously. I figured the dragons would either kill me or I'd be forced to live. One way or another, everything would get sorted out."

"Yeah?"

"I'm not cut out to be a dragon wrangler in the least, I can tell you that much. Almost died half a dozen times but when I didn't, I figured I should probably get on with living. Colin wouldn't be too happy with me for wasting what I have anyway. Done enough wasting of my life." Dennis cocked his head to the side. "Figure you might understand that better'n most."

"Yeah, that I do. So you're for getting on with your life?"

"Yeah, is why I came back here. Everything all right? I miss anything?"

"Dean's in hospital, Vati's taking care of him. I'm to appear before the Wizengamot along with Harry and Ron. Other than that? Not a thing, mate." Seamus listed all of it off with a sardonic tone, counting the issues off with his fingers. Dennis looked worried for a moment.

"Can I help with any of it?"

"You could help by talking to Vati. She'd probably appreciate knowing you were still in the land of the living."

"Plan."

"She'll be harder to win over than me." Seamus balled up his boss's request and tossed it at Dennis. "You were a right prick to all of us but Vati more."

"Had some things I needed to work through." Dennis sounded defensive but Seamus didn't much care.

"Said that already. I'm not the one you need to say that to. Vati's at work but maybe you could stop by tonight and explain it to her directly. Word of advice, though, I'd take flowers at the least."

"She that mad at me?" Dennis asked and all Seamus could do was nod. He really didn't think that flowers were going to heal any sort of wound but they might keep her from killing him long enough to allow him to explain. "Right, seems I've some bridges to mend."

"Good luck. Come round for dinner one of these nights," Seamus offered only to get a snort in response. "What? It wouldn't be me cooking. Dean's a right good cook."

"Yeah, all right." Dennis stood and started to leave but paused in the doorway. "Thanks."

"Nothing to it." Seamus waved him off and went back to his reports. The tedium and the boredom soon took over, stealing the worry over the upcoming trials from his mind.

~~**~~

Dean's mam came in as Seamus was packing Dean's things so that they could leave the hospital. She barely looked at Seamus – a not all that rare occurrence – and then went over to Dean, fussing with his pillows before grabbing the denims and t-shirt Seamus had laid out for him and switching them for an oxford and a pair of trousers. Refusing to rise to the bait, Seamus bit his tongue and, instead, concentrated on greeting Dean's da.

"Good to see you again, Mister Thomas. Good day, yeah?" He extended his hand and they shook, firm and friendly.

"Very good day. Glad to see him up and about and out of here. I know that Lisa will be happy to see him home again." Mister Thomas gestured towards Dean's mam and then the bags. "Need help getting him packed up?"

"Pardon? Home?" Seamus paused in the packing as he absorbed what had been said.

"Of course he's coming home with us," Dean's mam said condescendingly to him as she straightened the bedding.

"Thought he was coming back with me." Seamus paused as Dean entered the room with Parvati. "How'd that last test go, mate?"

"Good. Got the all clear to head out of here. You packing me up?"

"Aye, almost done." Seamus gestured towards the clothes on the bed. "You can get out of that hospital garb, too. Put on some real clothes."

"Yeah, fine, thanks." Dean grabbed the clothes and started to head towards the loo for a spot of privacy.

"I laid them out," Dean's mam interrupted.

"Oh, thanks, mum," Dean responded and then slipped into the loo.

"So when's he going to get anything back at all?" Seamus asked Parvati as he finished the last bag.

"They're going to start replacing things next week. They've isolated the memories that have been severely damaged and will be working through them but there's quite a bit that can be recovered."

"Quite a bit? You can't get all of it?" Dean's mum sounded angry about it.

"It's always been a small possibility that we'll be able to recover all of his memories. There are multiple spells involved and we're not all that certain as to what caused parts of the damage," Parvati explained but was interrupted by Dean's mum.

"A small possibility? I thought magic fixes everything! Why didn't you tell us this from the beginning?" Her voice kept rising as she continued until Dean interrupted.

"Mum, you didn't get told because you weren't involved in the decision. I'm an adult and I made the choice. If I get them back, I get them back. If I don't, then I don't. At least, this time, there's a possibility. One you denied me for four years. Who knows, maybe if we'd tried this four years ago, I'd get them all back. We'll never know," Dean said and then calmly turned to Seamus. "You about ready?"

"Excuse me for caring about you and trying to protect you! You're my son and – "

"I've already said my piece on that. I'll ring you later in the week to give you an update. You about ready, Seamus?" Dean grabbed one of the bags and started out the door.

"Yeah, sure. Nice seeing you both again," Seamus said as he grabbed the other bag and then walked out behind Dean.

Once they were in the lift, Dean turned to Seamus and snarled, "Nice seeing them?"

"Yeah, sure. It's a good thing that she was willing to come when you needed her."

"She's just trying to control and manipulate me. Again."

"She loves you and she's scared, that's all. She doesn't get any of this." Seamus paused to wave his hand around to encompass all the magic. "It can be scary, I'm sure."

"Stop defending her!" Dean yelled as he dropped the bag and grabbed Seamus's shoulders, pressing Seamus against the back wall of the lift. "Stop it! If she'd been willing to help me, she would've come this way right away instead of locking it away! If you cared, you wouldn't take her side!"

Seamus took a deep breath as he stayed still, pinned behind the wall and Dean. Despite the serious topic of conversation, Seamus wanted to lean forward a hair and press his lips against Dean's, taste him and get even closer. He wanted that hair between his fingers and that tongue in his mouth. Feeling himself grow hard, Seamus reached out and pushed Dean away. "Don't much appreciate the attack, mate. I care about you, I think we've established that. Don't rightly need you telling me that I don't. I know you miss your mum, though, and I know how close you always were. I'm trying to help you with that."

Dean stepped back and raked a hand through his hair. "If she'd just step outside herself."

"She will, I'm sure she will. You should've seen her when I asked her to come, not a single moment of hesitation. She just grabbed her coat and we were off. She loves you, she's just scared and acting out with it."

The lift dinged and interrupted their conversation. As they stepped out, Seamus said, "Give her some time, mate. Just a bit of time."

"I'm tired of giving time to everyone. I want time given back to me."

Seamus couldn't help it, he stopped walking and just held on to Dean, rubbing small circles on his back. "I know, Dean, I know. We'll get it back to you."

He could feel Dean press his face against Seamus's scalp and breathed deeply. "Promise?"

"Promise. Wouldn't want you to miss out on the match with Vati and Ron, would I?"

"Yeah," Dean agreed and then let go. "Let's get something to eat."

"Want to go somewhere or you want me to cook?"

"I'm just getting _out_ of hospital, I'd rather you not put me right back in it, thanks." Dean laughed and the slung his arm around Seamus's shoulders. Seamus slipped his own arm around Dean's waist, tucking his hand into the back pocket of the trousers.

~~**~~

After knocking on the door, Dean could feel his stomach fluttering. When his mum opened the door, Dean grinned at her and asked, "Can I come in?"

"Of course. You still live here." She stepped back and he entered the flat.

"Mum," he started but she interrupted.

"What did I say wrong this time?"

"I don't live here, mum. I'm living with Seamus." She snorted, the sound of disgust echoing about. "I do and right now? That isn't going to change. I don't live here anymore. You want to yell and ignore me, fine, then I'll go back to Seamus's and keep ignoring you, too. I'd rather we talk this out, though. I miss you."

"I never yelled at you."

"No, just at my Healer and Seamus and the rest of the people trying to help me instead of hiding everything I was. Everything I am."

"You're not that sort anymore!"

"I am, mum, I am and you need to deal with that. I'm sorry that I scared you so much before. I'm sorry that you are so scared that you can't accept that I'd rather be whole and at risk than live a half-life here. I'm sorry that you're scared but, mum, this is my life and I want to live it. I'm not going to leave magic, not again. I had it ripped away from me and you just continued the job of it." Dean reached out a hand and touched his mum's shoulder. "I want it back, much as I can get. If you can't deal with that, then, well, I don't know what to say about that. I want you around but not if you're always trying to control me and hide everything. You need to deal with this as much as I do."

Dean's anger faded away as she gave a small sob. Hugging her close to him, he whispered, "I love you, mum, but I have to live my own life too. You need to forgive me for scaring you."

"You're not going back to what you did before, are you?"

"Was thinking of working for a magazine doing the same as I did. Lav, one of the girls I went to school with, is willing to hire me to help her at her magazine." Dean squeezed her tight. "I want to go back to it."

"And to him?"

"And to him. I'm falling in love with him, mum."

"He hurt you so much before. He almost got you killed."

"He didn't much as he wants to think that he did. Partners are just that, partners." Dean pulled back and wiped her tear tracks with his thumb. "It's not anyone's fault but the people we were after unless you add me to the mix for not waiting and just charging in."

"I …"

"I'm falling in love with him," Dean repeated firmly. "Just him, without the history or anything. You used to like him, didn't you?"

"Yeah," she admitted quietly.

"Well, then, something for us to remember and focus on. He blames himself, too. He's a good man. He cares for me."

"I know that from his messages," she said and then caught herself, face shutting down.

"What messages?"

"In for a pound, I guess. He's been giving me updates on you this whole time, he didn't want me to worry about you."

"He did, did he?" Dean felt the anger growing again. It hadn't been Seamus's place to call his mother. "I need to head out. Want dinner later on in the week?"

"Of course." She reached out and hugged him. "I love you."

"Love you too," he said and then left the flat to head back to Seamus's. The wand in his pocket, regardless of whether he knew how to use it or not, felt familiar and comforting as he made his way. As he rode on the train, he wondered if, perhaps, he should try that spell of Seamus's that moved them from place to place. He remembered the words but not the magic and… and it was a bad idea, clearly. Besides, he'd be at the flat in a couple of minutes and those couple of minutes were important to him so that he could calm down.

When he entered the flat, he yelled out, "Seamus? Got a minute?"

Seamus came out of the bedroom, towelling off his hair. "Course I do. What's up?"

"You talked to my mum."

"When?" Seamus looked a bit shifty to Dean, it was quite clear that Seamus knew exactly what he was talking about.

"You called her and told her how I was doing even though I told you not to."

"She deserved to know about you."

"It was my choice! You had no right!" Dean pounded a hand on the small table by the door before storming into the kitchen. "No right at all! I said not to do it and you just went ahead and did it!"

"I did it for a reason, you know!" Seamus followed him into the kitchen. Dean, to keep from doing something he'd regret, grabbed the kettle and poured out a couple cups of tea, hands shaking the entire time.

"What reason was that, Seamus?"

"I love you, you fucking arse!" Dean turned around, forgetting about the tea in his hands as he stared at Seamus. Seamus, for his part, looked gobsmacked at himself.

"You don't love me."

"I do, yeah."

"You love who I was. You want me back the way I was and that isn't going to happen." Dean started to leave the kitchen when Seamus grabbed his shoulder.


	16. Chapter 16

"I'm not asking you to be who you were. I'm asking you to be who you are. Now. I'm in love with him, too."

"How can you say that?"

Seamus grabbed the teacup from in front of him and hurled it at the wall. It shattered in hundreds of pieces. Seamus looked over to Dean and saw the shocked expression. "That was me, Dean, when you died. Thousands of sharp shards and I couldn't get put back together, no matter how many ways and times I tried."

Seamus stood and then stalked over to the remains. Grabbing one of the pieces of the bottom of the cup, he held it aloft. "This? This is our first meeting."

He put it on the table and then picked up another." This? This is all the Bertie Botts we shared." He picked up another and then another and then another, laying them on the table neatly. "This is all the games of Exploding Snap. This is when you knocked my head straight, back in fifth year. This is for the summers we shared running wild with one another. This is our training together."

"I get it, Sea-" Dean started to say but Seamus interrupted him.

"You don't, no. Not yet." Seamus held up the handle of the cup. "This is the way I love you, the way you kissed and loved me." He Summoned the smallest pieces and then let them cascade down to the table. "All of these? These are the thousands, _millions_ of memories we shared."

He held up a hand when Dean made to interrupt again. With his other hand, he picked up the last few pieces. Holding them tightly in his clenched fist, he grabbed his wand and then cast _Reparo_ on the pieces. The cup formed back together, fractures and holes where the pieces within his grip were missing. "You see this? This is me right before I found you. Mostly together, just a bit missing. I could almost function again." He opened his hand and showed Dean the pieces in his palm. After putting his wand down, he carefully picked up one. "This? This is finding you again. This one is having you here with me, willing to talk and get to know me. This is knowing that, even without you having our shared history, we can, at the least, be mates. This one? This is the way I feel about you being willing to risk everything to try to recover your memories. And this one? This one's the hope I've got that you could love me even without all the history, hope that you can love me even half as much as I love you." Seamus carefully placed the last pieces on the table and then once more cast _Reparo_.

The cup came back together, as good as new. "Do you see now? Do you?"

"I see, I do." Seamus looked over to see the gobsmacked expression on Dean's face.

"Then how can you ask me that? I love you for you, whether you're the you of before or not. I love you for your core because that hasn't changed." Seamus laid his hand on Dean's chest, palm flat over his heart. "Here, you're you and that's who I love."

When Dean reached up and gripped the back of his neck, pulling him closer, Seamus pulled back. "Not yet, not until you love me, too."

Dean started to speak and Seamus interrupted, placing a finger on Dean's lips. "Don't be saying things you're not meaning."

"All right," Dean agreed and then held on to the hand Seamus had over his heart. "Won't stop me from trying to take advantage."

"Wouldn't be you if you didn't."

~~**~~

"Sit back and relax. We're going to insert the first one now." Parvati's soothing voice came from just behind his ear. "Think about that smile and…"

"Got something better," Dean interrupted.

"Yeah? Tell me about it."

"Seamus threw a teacup. Best thing ever." Dean leaned back and relaxed a bit more as he felt the tingling start beside his ear.

"I'll need a bit more information than that," she said as the tingling turned into a buzzing sound.

"Told me he loved me with or without my memories and used the cup to show me. It was brilliant." Dean couldn't help the soft – and slightly sappy, if he were honest with himself – smile that came across his face.

"That is brilliant, Dean. I'm very glad for the two of you." There was a murmur of voices too quiet to hear with the buzzing noise and then the wand tip disappeared. "There. First one in. Try to remember the Yule Ball."

Dean concentrated and then gasped.

_The Great Hall looked a dream. Seamus stood there with Lavender and Dean couldn't quite help the way that he kept staring. He told himself it was because they looked beautiful together but it was all a lie. It was because of the way that Seamus bounced, a contained ball of energy that pulled him in. It was the way that Seamus kept stealing glances at Dean in his formal robes and the way that Seamus looked in his own formal robes. It was the way that their hands would brush, back to back. It was all of this and more. In the end, it was Seamus in his entirety that grabbed his attention._

"Fucking brilliant, ain't it?" Seamus asked as he leaned over and yelled into Dean's ear over the applause as the Champions entered the room.

"It is!" Dean agreed and bumped against Seamus.

The Champions started to dance with their dates while Dean and Seamus exchanged a look and then burst out laughing. "Harry's a rubbish dancer!"

"Aye, that he is. It's rather hilarious watching it, though, isn't it?" Seamus yelled back.

"Poor Parvati, he's stepped on her at least three or four times. Please tell me you're a better dancer than that," Lavender said. Until she spoke, Dean had forgotten that Seamus had asked her to be his date to the Ball.

"Course I am, let me show you my moves." Seamus tossed a wink towards Dean and then escorted Lavender out onto the dance floor. Dean felt quite alone as the various pairs started the first waltz. Pulling back towards the edges, he made his way to the punchbowl where Fred and George Weasley were currently pouring something into the punch.

"Oi! What're you doing there?" Dean demanded as he walked up behind them.

"Making things more fun," one of them said while the other nodded sagely.

"Not going to poison the lot of us, are you? No Canary Creams or anything like it in there?" Dean looked at the punch bowl suspiciously.

"Of course not! What sort do you think we are?"

"The sort to turn people into giant birds?" Dean grinned as the Weasley twins exchanged a look and laughed.

"You have us there, mate. No date?"

"Didn't want one. Where are your dates?"

"Probably looking for the pair of us. So we're off to make our dates happy. Have fun and enjoy the punch!"

Dean looked at the punch suspiciously before casting one last look at the Weasley twins. With a sigh of trepidation, he dipped the ladle in and grabbed a glass. Just as he was about to take a sip, Seamus stole it from his hands. "Thanks, mate! Much obliged."

"Oi! That was mine and the…" he didn't get a chance to finish as Seamus downed the entire contents.

"What?" Seamus looked at the glass and then grabbed another ladle full. He downed that one quickly enough, as well.

"George and Fred dumped something in there. Don't know what, though."

"And you let me drink it? If I'm going to suffer, so're you!" Seamus ladled another glass and handed it to Dean. "You have two to drink to catch up. Down it goes!"

Dean drank first one and then another in rapid succession. There was a tingle and then nothing. He didn't sprout feathers and neither had Seamus. In fact, he didn't feel any different whatsoever. Perhaps it had been alcohol or something instead.

"Dance?" Dean gestured towards the floor.

"With you?" Seamus asked and Dean nodded. "Yeah, let's go."

The waltz reminded him of the way they'd practised so they wouldn't make arses of themselves with any possible dates. Dean took the lead and they swirled in time to the music, giant, exaggerated gestures. Both laughed and grinned as they manoeuvred around the floor. When the song ended, they stepped outside the Hall and leaned against the wall.

"Could do with a smoke," Seamus said.

"Disgusting habit. It makes you stink," Dean retorted as he changed to lean with a shoulder on the wall and facing Seamus.

"I don't smell."

"You do." Dean sniffed at Seamus dramatically. When Seamus turned to look at Dean, the moment shifted and all Dean could see was the fact that their faces were inches apart and if he moved a hair, he'd be able to kiss Seamus. As he was wondering about whether Seamus would taste like those illicit fags or if the punch would taste different from his mouth, he was finding out. Seamus's lips pressed against his and it was the best feeling in his life that he'd ever experienced. Hands threaded into his hair and pulled him closer, bringing their mouths more in line.

Dean hadn't snogged anyone before or, well, not since Mara back when they were six. Even then, it'd been a quick peck on the lips and nothing at all like this. Nothing could be like this, not with the way that Seamus's mouth was hot and wet and his tongue. Oh dear Jesus, his tongue was touching Dean's and that wet slipslide was too much for Dean.

Moaning into Seamus's mouth – which did taste like punch and not the fags – Dean shifted until he pressed Seamus against the wall while his hands held on to Seamus's arms, drifting up to his shoulders, along his collarbone, up his neck, over his cheeks, through his hair, brushing his ears before going back down. He didn't know what to touch and where to touch because there were too many options.

"Seem," he whispered as he pulled back before kissing once more.

He was hard. Seamus was hard. They were both hard and touching and rubbing and kissing and Seamus was thrusting against him while he thrust against Seamus. This was just about perfect, really, nothing could be better except for this to go on and on and on and… and the door to the Great Hall opened, the creak echoing loudly as the music poured out. They leapt apart and stood there panting as they stared at one another. Dean rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping the proof of their snog away.

"That was…" Seamus started before stopping. If it had been any other moment, if they had been doing anything else, Dean would give Seamus such shit for being speechless but they had been doing that and it had been a moment. A really important moment that shifted everything.

"Yeah."

"Don't know what the twins put in the punch but I'm sure that's why we kissed," Seamus said and Dean could tell he was trying to convince them both. A small frisson of loss crept through him before he realised that they were mates. Everyone knew that mates didn't kiss mates like that.

"Right. We'll laugh about this tomorrow. Good kiss, though. Lavender's a lucky lass. You going to try to kiss her, too?"

"Um, yeah, sure. Expected, isn't it?" Seamus looked to the door and then to Dean and then back to the door.

"Want to go back in?"

"Actually, I think the punch made me sick, I think I'll head up to bed." Dean kept staring at Seamus.

"All right. Have a good one."

"Good luck with Lav."

"Ta," Seamus said with a salute and then walked back towards the Great Hall. As he reached the doors, he looked back and then touched his lips. Dean watched the path of his hand and the way the fingers hesitated before echoing the gesture.

When he pulled out of the memory, his fingers were pressed to his lips. "I remembered."


	17. Chapter 17

"Good memory?" Parvati asked with a grin that told Dean that she'd already seen it. It was then that the reality of what was happening to his memories hit. There were strangers going through his entire life and watching all of it. They would know more about everything than he did. Right now, the woman over in the corner with the Pensieve knew more about his life than he did. Bitterness swelled before he pushed it back down.

"Have they seen them all?" Dean asked before he could stop himself.

"Not all."

"They know more about me than I do."

"Not for long."

"Are there more I can have back?" Dean asked, wanting them all back now and at this very moment.

"A few. Let's keep going."

The buzzing continued as memories of classes and Hogsmeade weekends flowed into his mind. He'd relive them all, over and over, later but for now, he wanted everything he could get and he wouldn't stop the flow of memories just to relive one or two. He was far too greedy for that right.

From the too-empty feeling of this morning to the too-full feeling now as the memories slipped back into their spots, Dean had a horrendous headache by the end of the day. When Seamus stopped by to pick him up, he was lying in the bed with his eyes covered.

"All right there?" Seamus's voice was comforting and Dean reached out, grabbing for his hand. The weight and heat of it took some of the sting from his head.

"Head hurts."

"We'll get you home and fed. I'll slip you into bed and you'll be better."

"I knew I kept you around for a reason," Dean said with a quiet chuckle.

"Stunning good lucks, fantastic arse, witty sense of humour and amazing nursing skills. Yes, I do have it all."

"Don't forget overblown ego in there."

"I'll agree with that." Parvati's voice interrupted. Dean pulled the blanket from his face. "How're you feeling?"

"Head's pounding and I can't really focus."

"Too much going on in there. It'll be easier after a nap. I've a sleeping draught and a few potions for you to take over the next week. Sleeping draught as needed but I recommend it for tonight. Don't push it tonight, you'll probably dream the memories anyway."

"All right, thanks."

"I'll take those." Seamus reached out a hand and grabbed the sack from her hands. "You have instructions in there?"

"Very detailed instructions. I'm very familiar with Nurse Seamus," she said before elbowing him. "Or should I say Healer Seamus as he tries to do my job for me?"

"Sorry?" Seamus looked lost at the abrupt change of subject.

"Dennis." She crossed her arms and stared at Dean. Dean, for his part, felt like he was watching the beginnings of a tennis match.

"What about him?"

"You sent him over to my flat."

"He asked about you so I said to go see you."

"You told him to bring flowers."

"I said that might distract you long enough so you wouldn't kill him, just beat him bloody."

"Flowers, Seamus, _flowers_."

"What's wrong with flowers? I thought all the lasses like flowers."

"You are so _male_ ," she said and cursed under her breath. "You owe me. Big time."

"Fine, all right. Thought I was doing you a favour by telling him to go and show you that he wasn't dead."

"Big time, Seamus," she repeated before turning to Dean. "Take it easy for a bit. You're released. I also wrote down your next appointment in the instructions."

"Yeah, thanks. Appreciate your time." Dean stood and immediately lost his balance. There was too much in his head. Seamus steadied him and Dean wasn't at all embarrassed to lean against him.

By the time they made it home and through the promised food, pampering and bed preparations, Dean was exhausted. Seamus tucked him into the bed in Seamus's room and turned off the light, shutting the curtains and hiding the light away.

"Stay?" Dean asked and reached out a hand. "Please?"

"Of course," Seamus responded and then slid into the bed next to him. Dean could feel his tentative motions as he slowly crept closer and then wrapped himself around Dean so that they curled one into the other. "This all right?"

"More than." Dean held on to Seamus's hand where it rested against his chest and then slid up his arm.

"I love you," Seamus whispered against his ear, the puff of air causing his hair tickle his ear.

"I know," he whispered back.

His dreams, that night, were full of magic and the taste of Honeyduke's chocolates on his tongue. Cold winters and having snowball fights, warm springs and sitting by the lake, crisp autumns and exploring the castle, all of it danced through his mind's eye in a jumble. The major constant was Seamus. Throughout everything, Seamus was right there, side-by-side with Dean. They sat near each other in classes, they argued in the common room, they pushed and shoved in arguments, they ate dinner at his mum's table, they ran wild in the streets of Kenmare.

In the morning, Dean stayed in bed as he watched Seamus get ready for work. He grinned when Seamus brushed his lips across Dean's forehead. "Don't forget your potions."

"Yes, mum," Dean retorted with a laugh. The laughter quickly disappeared when Seamus brushed his lips across Dean's. He was quite grateful for the blankets that hid the way that his morning erection hardened just a bit further with that.

"Not your mum, you fucking wanker."

"Trust me, I know that one."

"Got anything good back?" Seamus asked.

"Yeah, we were – " Dean didn't get a chance to continue as an alarm sounded.

"Fucking Christ!" Seamus raked a hand through his hair, turned off the alarm and then looked at Dean. "Fucking work. I've a meeting first thing, too, so I can't be late. Tell me everything tonight? I'm sure it's all a jumble now, anyway. Just take it easy and remember your potions. You need to sleep so stay in bed. I'll appreciate the thought of you being in bed while I'm slaving away."

"Little housewife, that's me."

"Too right. Hoover the place today, too. And it could use a spot of dusting. I expect dinner at six and," the alarm rang once more. "And great Jesus above, will you shut the fuck up, you bloody cow of a machine! I know it already!"

Dean reached out a hand and turned off the alarm before rolling back over and pressing his face into Seamus's pillow. The scent followed him back into his dreams.


	18. Chapter 18

Perhaps meeting was a misnomer but Seamus didn't feel too bad for misleading Dean as to what, exactly, the 'meeting' was about. The trial for Rodolphus Lestrange was this morning. Seamus's nerves weren't nearly as bad as they had been when he'd first received the summons. Instead, he concentrated on the feel of Dean's flesh under his lips from this morning.

"All right, Seamus?" Harry asked from his right as the lift lowered.

"All right, you?" Seamus asked back as he looked to Harry. Harry gave a nod.

"How's Dean?"

"Good. They restored some of his memories yesterday. Didn't get a chance to find out what ones yet, though. I'm hoping for everything but I'll be happy enough if he can remember anything at all."

"Yeah. Had to be weird to be in that position. Glad it wasn't me," Harry said. "Don't know how I would've coped if it had been Ginny, either."

"Day by day. You learn to get around one another."

"Back together?"

"Not yet but-," Seamus paused to collect himself. "But it's looking likely."

"That's brilliant news! Congratulations!" The lift doors opened, interrupting their conversation. Ron stepped out from the alcove and the three of them walked towards the courtroom. The narrow halls slowly started to creep in on Seamus but he pushed all of that back. He wasn't on trial much as his guilty conscience might make him think that he was. The worst that the Wizengamot could do was forbid him from ever working as an Auror again. Either way, he didn't much care about being in law enforcement any longer. Tedious reports aside, he liked working with Quidditch.

The doors opened and the three of them slipped into the courtroom. The pomp and circumstance of the opening of the trial started, stealing Seamus's attention from his thoughts on his career. Lestrange entered in shackles while being escorted by two very burly Aurors. After sitting on the chair and being secured, the rest of the trial, the recitation of charges, the administration of Veritaserum and the rest all flowed past quickly. So absorbed in the proceedings, Seamus didn't realise that they'd called his name until Harry elbowed him.

"Sorry, sirs and madams," Seamus apologised as he hurried down to the witness seat.

~~**~~

_His hands pinned over his head, Dean grinned up at Seamus as they wrestled for the top position. Seamus's grin was cocky, far too cocky, and all Dean wanted to do was wipe that smirk off his face. Going placid, he waited until Seamus's arrogance let him relax. Bucking against Seamus, he was able to flip them around and then he quickly pinned Seamus to the bed._

_"Got you, you know," Dean said as he leaned forward and pressed their lips together._

_"Always," Seamus said seriously._

_"I love you, Seem," Dean vowed and then kissed Seamus once more while entwining their hands together._

~~**~~

"Could you please tell us about the first interview." The stately woman asking him about the time he'd beat the everliving shite out of Lestrange seemed familiar to Seamus.

"Aye, sure. I was reinstated temporarily as a full Auror so as to sit in on the questioning of a prime suspect in an investigation I'd been Lead Investigator. We didn't have permission to administer Veritaserum so the questioning didn't go well. Lestrange was argumentative and defensive."

"We are given to believe, from the reports filed about the questioning, that force was utilized?"

"Aye, madam, it was."

~~**~~

_"Adams, Anthony. Adams, Antonia. Adams, Barbara," Dean read the list of names from the phone register as he stared at Seamus squirming in his seat. Deepening his voice, recalling the way that Seamus made him growl at times, Dean taunted, "About ready to give up? Face it, you can't help that I turn you on for anything at all. I told you that I could read the names and you'd get hard. You're hard, Seem, give it up and kiss me."_

_Seamus leapt from the chair and tackled him, toppling them and the chair._

~~**~~

"And what was the results of this forceful interrogation?"

"Lestrange didn't confess. We were able to secure permission to use Veritaserum in the next interrogation session because he was recalcitrant."

"Ah, of course," she said and Seamus could tell that she didn't approve of the beating he'd administered. "Is it common practise to utilize force in the course of your investigations?"

~~**~~

_"You're avoiding me and I'm sick and tired of it. We're best mates, aren't we?" Dean demanded as he held the door to the closet closed._

_"Let me out of here. I've work to be doing," Seamus spat back as he tried to get around Dean._

_"Work that I'm your partner for! You keep avoiding me and we'll never get through training! Just tell me what the fuck is your problem before it gets us both tossed out of here!"_

_"You, all right?! You are my problem!"_

_"How's that go?" Dean was so angry that he couldn't quite breathe properly._

_"You and this and everything! I can't talk to you about this!"_

_"Why not? If I'm the problem, you need to tell me so I can stop doing whatever it is that I'm doing that pisses you off so much."_

_"You can't change it so just leave off!"_

_"No fucking way!" Dean yelled back. He was certain that there was a hell of a crowd outside the door but he didn't much care. Seamus was close and his scent was teasing Dean. There'd been all those awkward looks and Dean had seen the hurt building for a few days._

_"You and Lav, all right?"_

_"She's not your girl so what's the problem?"_

_"She shouldn't be yours, either."_

_"Why?"_

_"Because I should be," Seamus said and then abruptly stopped all motion at all. "I don't mean that."_

_"Yes, you do."_

_"I don't. I wouldn't. Ignore I said anything and let me out of this fucking closet."_

_Dean laughed before saying, "That's what I'm trying to do."_

_With that, he kissed Seamus, holding on to his arms tightly. The feel of Seamus's arms swinging around him and the feel of his fingers kneading the back of his neck turned him on more than any flirtation he'd had before. It brought back memories of that drunken snog and the way that he'd been dreaming of Seamus's taste for all these years._

~~**~~

"We have before us, twenty three reports of interrogations that you have conducted, Mister Finnigan, and of those, three had force utilized in them."

"Aye, I'm sure. If a suspect attacks, I'll protect myself."

"Is that your position in this instance? Lestrange attacked you within the interrogation room?"

"No, madam, didn't say that. I'm saying that the previous interrogations were out in the field and I was under attack meself." Seamus did his best to keep his temper under control as he was interrogated but couldn't resist saying, "I thought Lestrange was the one on trial and not meself."

"He is. However, we must confirm the veracity of the testimony. If it was given under duress or to avoid another such _forceful_ interrogation, than the veracity is called into question."

"I didn't attack him again. We, Potter, Weasley and meself, administered the Veritaserum calmly and without any incident. The confession to the misdeeds were eventually recited in a proud tone. There was no fear on Lestrange's part at all. He's proud of taking away the lives of his victims and stripping them from the lives of their loved ones. He's happy to have wrecked countless lives. That's what we should be talking about, not a couple of hits on my part. You want to talk about duress? Try having a loved one disappear right in front of you and coming across him in a park. You try it and then we'll be talking about duress." Seamus's outburst didn't embarrass him.

"Dean Thomas," she said simply.

"Dean Thomas. Me partner."

"In more ways than Aurors?"

"Aye."

~~**~~

_"You're right, we need to get in there before they disappear," Dean said as he looked towards the building. "Come on, Seem."_

_The curse came from nowhere. Dean didn't even know what hit him before everything darkened._

~~**~~

"He is currently undergoing treatment to reverse the effects?"

"Aye. The Healers are hopeful that they can recover the majority of his memories. They're not entirely optimistic that Dean'll get all of them back."

"And there are more victims? Do we have a list?"

Harry stood up from his seat, "If I could interrupt, that information is in the report in front of you. Lestrange and his cohorts didn't recall the names of most of their victims. We've asked for permission to be able to go through the records of the missing and search for them."

"Auror Potter, please come forward. Auror Finnigan, you may return to your seat. We may have need of you further."

~~**~~

When he woke, Dean curled around Seamus's pillow, snuggling it close. There were giant gaps in his memory. Everything – the past and the present and the fake past – all combined into a confusing mess. Shaking with the effects of recalling so much so quickly, Dean slipped out of bed and grabbed the box of photographs and drawings.

He flipped through them, checking to see which ones he remembered and which ones he didn't. He could remember drawing some of them but not all. Gripping the drawing in front of him, he remembered the way that Seamus had looked that morning when he'd woken after their first shag. So entranced with the way the light trickled across Seamus's freckled skin, he'd grabbed his quill and started to sketch, making Seamus stay there even as he whinged about having to take a piss and what the hell was Dean thinking about drawing for when they could be shagging each other rotten. Dean ignored all of it as he captured the moment.

The past Seamus had been quick to anger and jealousy. It had turned Dean on as much as it had repelled him. They'd been great mates, fantastic lovers but not so great at being lovers and mates. They'd fought often and made up just as much. That morning, though, there'd been such intense love.

Just like now.

Dropping the sketch back into the box, Dean grinned to himself as he pressed his fingers against his lips. Dean loved Seamus. Hell, he loved him more now than he ever had before. He'd been falling and falling for so long that he hadn't realised just how far he'd fallen. Seamus wasn't just his best mate or the one he'd run off to when he'd argued with his mum. Seamus was it for him. _It_.

~~**~~

"In the matter of Rodolphus Lestrange, all those in favour of permanent incarceration with no chance of parole, please raise your hands." Slowly but surely, every hand but two raised.

"Those not in favour, raise your hands." No hands rose.

"The verdict and punishment carry. Rodolphus Lestrange, you are hereby remanded into the permanent and judicious custody of Azkaban for the entirety of your life."


	19. Chapter 19

Seamus entered the flat whistling. The trial, even if it had lasted all day, had gone better than he'd thought it would. As he turned to shut the door and toss his keys onto the small table, he called out, "Dean? Where's me dinner? You promised to have it ready, my very tall housewife!"

"Seem," Dean said. Seamus froze where he stood. That name, that was the name he'd been waiting for, that was the landmark he'd set himself.

"What did you say?" Seamus turned around and Dean was too close, chest brushing chest.

"Seem," Dean repeated before reaching out a hand and cupping Seamus's cheek. "I called you 'Seem'."

"You don't know what that means," Seamus breathed out, shaky and disbelieving, while Dean didn't move his hand. Unconscious of the gesture, Seamus leaned his face deeper into that touch.

"I know, Seem." Dean's face slowly lowered as he spoke and Seamus was powerless to resist. "I called you 'Seem' and you said it meant the world to you. You knew that everything was going to be all right when I used it. _I know_."

Seamus raised his eyes and watched as Dean pressed just that much closer and then there was the brush of lip against lip. It brought tears to his eyes as Dean brushed his lips across Seamus's once more. A third time and Seamus's hands snuck up Dean's back until they threaded into the hair at the nape of Dean's neck. His palm fitted itself to the curve of skull and then pressed upwards, forcing their faces together.

Dean opened his mouth and breathed out, over Seamus's lips, "Seem" and it broke the last of the resistance. Hungry for the taste he hadn't had in over four years, Seamus opened his own mouth and licked across Dean's lips. The kiss turned ravenous as he sucked Dean's lower lip between his own and then nipped it.

Unable to tell where one set of lips stopped and the other began, they tasted and touched. Seamus cried out at the sensation. It felt like yesterday that they'd last been together but it also felt like the first time. He was mixed up, all the memories and sensations and the present muddling together into one massive wave of need that swept over him.  

"Dean," he said as he pulled back and rested their foreheads against one another. Seamus couldn't quite think of anything other than the feel of their skin touching one another, the way that Dean touched his face and the feel of Dean's hair tickling the palm of his hand the way it hadn't for too many years. "Dean."

"I know, Seamus, I know, me too," Dean breathed out once more and then pressed their lips together. Dean's taste exploded across his tongue again. Seamus's hands shook as he started to unbutton Dean's shirt. The feel of that hard flesh under his hands and the sight of his pale hand against Dean's dark expanse had his knees going weak. He pressed harder against Dean to try to disguise the trembling as he pushed the shirt off Dean's shoulders and then let it drift to the floor.

Dean felt it, though, had to have felt it because he grabbed Seamus's hands and pressed his palms tightly against the exposed flesh and broke the kiss only to brush their lips against one another again. Seamus left his hands there and watched as Dean unfastened his shirt, fingertips brushing his chest. Shivering at the fleeting sensations, Seamus released Dean and arched backwards as Dean pushed the shirt off. The feel of having that familiar and missed touch on the bare skin of his hips made Seamus's head fall back as he thrust against Dean's hips.

Kissing once more, Seamus pulled Dean backwards so that they landed on the sofa with a slight bounce. He revelled in the feel of Dean over him, surrounding him. Touching Dean, looking up at him and pausing a moment to absorb the fact that he was once more able to touch Dean, Seamus couldn't help but whisper, "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Seem," Dean whispered back and then brushed his lips against Seamus's. "Seem."

"Can't believe you're here." Seamus reached a shaking hand to touch Dean's cheeks. "Can't believe this is real."

"I'm here, I'm real," Dean vowed before kissing first the palm and then the tip of Seamus's thumb. While watching Seamus out of the corner of his eye, Dean bit down on the thumb and grinned when Seamus moaned.

Hands tugged at belts and trousers and pants. Seamus cried out at the feel of Dean's hand on his hips, tracing the indent and then delving between Seamus's legs to tease at his balls. That wicked hand cupped Seamus's balls, weighing them and then ran along the inside of his thighs. Twisting this way and that, Seamus tried to get Dean to touch his cock but Dean only held on to Seamus's hip and pressed it firmly against the cushion.

"Have to make this last," he said against Seamus's lips. "Patience."

"Four years, mate, four fucking years and you think I want to wait any longer? _Touch me_." Seamus didn't much care that he sounded demanding. He _was_ demanding.

"Like this?" Dean asked before taking Seamus's cock into his hand. It felt amazing. Divine. Too much. Seamus cried out for the feel of it. Bucking up into the hand, Seamus tried for more friction but Dean wouldn't let him, instead he kept tormenting him by holding him still and ever so slowly pulling up and then sliding back down. When his thumb brushed the slit on the top of Seamus's cock, Seamus keened at the feeling.

"Going to come, want to come so bad," Seamus moaned as he tried to buck once more.

"Going to come in my pants if you keep moving like that," Dean answered.

"Then we need to get them off, don't we? Don't want you embarrassing yourself like a git," Seamus said with a wicked grin. He slipped his hand into Dean's trousers, felt the rasp of the zipper down his palm and then pushed the trousers and pants as far down Dean's legs as he could with the way they were laying on the couch.

"Haven't embarrassed myself like that in years," Dean muttered and then leaned forward to kiss the tip of Seamus's nose.

"You sure of that?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I have supreme control."

Seamus could only grin in response. "Yeah? You think so?"

"I do."

"Oh yeah?" Seamus asked before grasping Dean's cock while his other hand slipped further between Dean's legs to tease at Dean's arse. "You really sure about that?"

"Going to make me come first?"

"Won't be all that hard."

"I think I'm hard enough." Dean waggled his eyebrows and grinned.

"Ha, ha." Seamus rolled his eyes. "That is some of the worst shite you have ever spouted."

"Fuck off."

"Am trying."

"That any better?" Dean asked.

"Hell yes, it is. Came out of my mouth, didn't it?" Seamus tugged at Dean's cock and watched as his head fell backwards. He did it again and listened to Dean moan. With the way that Dean was arching, his chest was at eye level for Seamus. Not one to let an opportunity pass, Seamus leaned forward and sucked Dean's nipple into his mouth again. The moan barely registered this time as Seamus fixated on nipping and licking Dean's chest. "Come for me."

"You first," Dean responded as his hands started to roam at will, touching and teasing Seamus's flesh.

"Make me," Seamus dared. It wouldn't take much; he was still overwhelmed by the fact that they were doing this let alone Dean having at least some of his memories back. Dean's hand slid from his chest to the back of his head, teasing along his cheek and ear. The subsequent kiss continued on and on, sending Seamus into a sensory overload where all he could see was the blur of Dean's face in front of him while all he could feel was Dean surrounding him, weighing him down.

When he came, he wasn't at all embarrassed that he was first. Besides, Dean followed quickly enough. Other than fumbling for his wand and spelling them clean, Seamus didn't move. Instead, he absorbed the feel of Dean on top of him.

"Seem," Dean said.

"I love you," Seamus responded.

"I know you do." Leaning forward, Dean pressed his lips against Seamus's. "I remember."


End file.
